by JA Huss
Simple.
My life has always been simple.
And I’m not saying one is better than the other. I’m not really saying anything with my hesitation. I’m just… considering my options.
“I don’t know,” I finally say. “I really have no idea who I am, let alone who I want to be.”
Vincent’s face changes in my moment of realization. “I see. Would you like to hear my opinion on what’s in your closet?”
I nod. Because I could really use some guidance right now and he’s all I have at them moment.
“This,” he says with a smile as his fingertips gather a piece of light green fabric, “is a beautiful dress. My favorite, in fact.” He lifts the hanger off the rack so I can see the dress displayed.
It’s very pretty. Not sexy. But sophisticated. The pale green reminds me of a honeydew melon. And it’s more of a gown than a dress. A soft chiffon gown with a shirred empire bodice, and skirts that flow all the way to the floor, like a column.
“It’s pretty.”
“Yes,” Vincent says. “But maybe tonight you just want to be comfortable?” He pulls out a t-shirt with some writing on it. Grunge-style. Little rips in the sleeve to make it looked well-loved and well-worn. And then he opens a drawer in one of the many cabinets and finds a pair of denim shorts. “This is what you usually wear, right?”
I smile a huff out a laugh. “Yeah. I’m not very fancy.”
“So wear this to our first dinner.”
I look up at him and smile. “What are you going to wear?”
“I look pretty good like this,” he says, gesturing to his suit. “I like to be fancy. But if you choose comfortable, I’ll change.”
I sigh and turn back to the green dress. He’s good, I realize. He’s very, very good at this. Here I am wondering what he wants me to wear to dinner with him, when ten minutes ago I was angry about being forced to come stay at his house.
I don’t know what to make of it.
“Harper,” he says softly behind me. “It’s not a big decision. Just match the clothes to your mood and purpose.”
“What if I don’t know what I feel? Or what I want?”
“Well, that’s understandable. It takes time. I’m sorry I was harsh with you earlier. I’ve set things up wrong. I’ve set you up to be combative, and I apologize. I don’t want to fight. I just want to get to know you. So decide how you want to feel tonight, right now. And then let the rest go. Just enjoy it for what it is. A dinner. With me.”
“I want to see myself in that dress,” I whisper. “I’ve never worn something so… grown up.”
“Then put it on. And come downstairs. We’ll eat outside since it’s nice. I’ll wait for you there.”
And then he backs out of my closet and I stand stock still as I hear the door close to the bedroom.
I look at the clothes.
I replay his words.
I see his intentions.
And none of it scares me.
But that… scares me.
Chapter Seventy-One - Harper
I don’t recognize myself when I look in the mirror and it takes me several minutes of self-reflection to decide I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. Of course, that’s hardly self-reflection. Usually when one self-reflects, they come to a conclusion. I don’t seem to be able to come to any conclusions.
I sigh at my image. I’m happy with the way I look. I am a bit on the athletic side. My legs are muscular, but the dress falls all the way to the floor, so they can’t be seen. My arms are a little too defined for a girl. But they are bronzed from the summer sun and the hairs on them are all that bleached shade of yellow that reminds me of Nick. His facial hair is like that.
God, I miss him. Does he know where I am? How will he find me now? My one-year anniversary is pretty much up. In fact, it might even be the same day James promised to come back for me. But I’m here in Santa Barbara and the two most important people in my life will be looking for me in the wrong place.
I shake off the worries. I can’t worry right now. I just need a breath. I just need a break.
I just need to figure out who this girl in the mirror is.
My attention goes to my hair. It’s a little long since I don’t do anything beyond combing it these days.
What am I talking about? I’ve never done anything beyond combing it.
My face has that just-washed pink hue to it from scrubbing. I don’t wear makeup, so I’m not sure if the way I look is acceptable or not.
And then the shoes. I have no idea what to put on my feet, so I put on some soft yellow ballet flats.
Will Vincent like my choice? Do I care if he likes it? Why the fuck am I wondering?
I turn away from the mirror and walk out of the closet. I’m done. It’s a dress. It’s a dinner. I’ve worn hundreds of dresses and attended just as many dinners.
I walk out of the room and make my way to the stairs. He said he’d be outside, so when I reach the bottom I walk around to the back of the house and squint my eyes as I try to find him through the glass doors. It’s no use. The lights are on inside and out there it’s dark. So I can’t see through them.
I walk calmly to the French doors I entered in a little while ago and open them. There is no one on the terrace, but I see a flickering fire a little way past where the helicopter landed.
“Vincent?” I call.
No answer. But I can see a shadow in front of the flames. I could yell and make him acknowledge that it’s him. Or I could just walk down there myself and stop being such a baby.
I have killed fourteen people, so I opt for being a grownup. But every step makes my heart beat erratically.
I’m more than halfway to the fire when he turns and yes, it is Vincent. My heart calms. Why? I’m not sure. This man took me away from everything I know and forced me into a life I neither asked for nor want.
Why am I such a nervous person? How can this stranger make me feel better so easily?
Am I drugged? I don’t feel drugged right now. But pretty much everyone has admitted to drugging me recently. So hey, it’s not an outlandish question. I should stop accepting drinks from these people.
“I love it,” Vincent says as soon as I’m close enough for him to reach out and grab my hand. His eyes slowly track down my slim body and then come to rest on my breasts before he looks back up at my face. “You’re stunning.”
I want to smile with satisfaction for putting myself together properly, or maybe even from the praise and desire I hear in his voice. But I hold it in.
It’s wrong. God, this is all so fucked up. “I think James would’ve liked this dress too.” I say it to be spiteful.
But Vincent doesn’t even blink. “I’m sure he would. As would any man, insane or not.”
A dig. But a small one. Not one worth an argument. I don’t care what Vincent thinks of James. I know James isn’t insane when we’re together, and that’s all that counts.
“Ready to eat?” Vincent asks, after letting me pause to think about his remark.
“Where? I don’t see a table.”
He places his other hand over the small of my back to lead me towards a paved path. “There’s a nice view of the ocean through these trees. I have an area set up down there that overlooks the marina and I thought it would be the perfect place for our first dinner.”
We walk for a little ways in silence and then there’s a break in the trees and sure enough, the moon is shining bright in the night sky, its reflection mirrored on the water below. The marina is small and so are the boats.
“It’s a Company neighborhood, Harper. And the Company owns that marina too.”
I’m not sure if he says it to just FYI me about how things are run around here. Or if he’s cautioning me about trying to run away and ask for help. So I don’t react.
“Here,” Vincent says, pulling out a chair for me at a table set for two. “The servers should be here soon. But we can have a drink while we wait.”
“I don’t
drink,” I say as I place the white linen napkin in my lap.
“It’s just a gesture, Harper. I’m sure your father gave you sips of champagne at dinner.”
“Never.”
Vincent sits across from me. The table is small, so he’s close. Too close, I think. Too close for me to keep my distance from the way he’s trying to make me feel. He’s trying his best to make himself irresistible, and I’d like to try my best to resist him. But when I look across the table, I see James. His green eyes. His dark hair. His five o’clock shadow.
“Tonight will be your first, then,” Vincent says, filling my flute with the light honey-colored liquid. It bubbles up, bursting into the air so that even from my seat I can smell the fruitiness of the vintage. He lifts his glass and holds it towards me. I reciprocate the gesture. “To all our firsts. I hope we have a lifetime of them.”
I squint my eyes a little, but he pretends not to notice as he takes a sip. My glass is set back down with no drink.
“I prefer water, thank you. Do we have some water? In a bottle. With a sealed cap.”
“Of course. The servers will bring it with the meal. Now tell me, do you like the dress? Because I like it very much.”
“What do you like about it?” I’m genuinely interested.
“What’s not to like?” he asks back with a chuckle. “The color makes you look like a woodland fairy. It plays against the amber of your eyes, making them look like two shining jewels. It shows off the curve of your shoulders. The bronze of your skin. And while it’s sexy as all fucking hell, you’re showing very little skin. This is a dress I’d take you out in public in. A dress that would allow others to see your beauty without giving them too much of an eyeful. It is, in fact, perfect. Now that you’re wearing it, of course.”
“Wow. That is some line of bullshit you have there, Vincent. James would say, Harper, you’re just as fuckable with no clothes on. But this dress just makes me want to rip it off you.”
Vincent stares at me.
I stare at him. I have to tuck my smile down, but he’s not having any trouble keeping his at bay.
“Do you want me to treat you like James, Harper? Do you want me to fuck your face in a hallway?”
My whole body goes hot with embarrassment. I’d forgotten he said he saw that. “How do you know he did that? Were you stalking me?”
“No,” he growls. “I was watching James, and James was watching you. He had that little scene on tape in his apartment.”
I can’t breathe. That’s how much this stuns me. “He did not.”
“It’s still there now. He never cleaned the place. He’s gone, Harper. He’s lost it. He’s careless and stupid and what he did to you”—Vincent stops to shake his head—“it was sick.”
Sick. The word reverberates around in my head.
Am I sick because I was turned on from it?
I look down at my lap just as the servers appear from the path. There’s a whole crew of them, which is weird since I didn’t see a single soul either time as I walked through the house. They set down platters with covers on them. And the water arrives. A pitcher is placed on a side table, since the table is so small it really can’t fit. They did not bring bottled water.
Two servers lift off our plate covers simultaneously and the rich aroma of lobster and butter fills my nostrils.
God, I’m famished. I practically salivate as I stare at the meal. The server attending Vincent places a bib around his neck, while the one attending me does the same.
When they’re done, Vincent says, “Thank you,” and they leave us alone.
I am hungry and I really do want to eat. But I’m still thinking about James having a video of me in that hallway.
“I’m sorry,” Vincent says. His tone is hushed and the anger is gone. “I shouldn’t have told you about the videos. I’m just tired of hearing about him. When you disappeared last year, Harper, I was lost. I mean, I understand that it’s wrong the way they set us up like that. But I hit the jackpot with you. I wanted you. Want,” he corrects himself. “I want you. And then your father told me I had to wait it out. They were keeping tabs on you, but no one was allowed to go in. I was reluctant. I was crazy with worry. But as the months passed you settled in. Nothing seemed to be happening. It really did appear that you wanted to be alone.”
I look up at him, knowing where this is going.
“But then James showed up and I was livid. That he could walk into your life after I’d given you all that space, and take—” Vincent stops talking. He shakes his head and then he looks down at his food and begins to eat.
“Take what?” I ask.
“Never mind.”
“My virginity?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Your self-respect.”
Chapter Seventy-Two - Harper
That stuns me silent.
Vincent eats a few more bites. In silence.
All I see in my mind’s eye is James straddling my hips in the hallway as he positions his dick over my face.
Your self-respect.
“Fuck. I’m sorry. Again.” Vincent reaches across the table and puts his hand on mine. “Are you OK?”
I nod. Smile. Nod again with a bigger smile. “Fine. It’s just…” I need to change the subject. Like now. “I’m not sure what’s going on here. Is there some sort of… contract?”
All my life my father has used that word. The contract needs to be fulfilled. The contract needs to be negotiated. The contract has been violated.
Violated. I have only ever heard that mentioned once and it was the day Nick left. Right before we turned eighteen.
Vincent squints his eyes at me. As if he’s suspicious. And that immediately makes me suspicious. “What makes you say that?”
“Well, you say you’re my promise. Aren’t there contracts in place for promises?”
“Harper,” he says in a tone that comes off as admonishing. “Promising girls to men on their eighteenth birthdays isn’t even legal. Why would we need a contract that can’t be upheld?”
I can think of a dozen reasons right off the top of my head. But the most obvious is to hold it over someone when they screw up. See, one might say, I have your daughter promised to blahedy-blah. That was a nice match, hmm? But if you don’t fulfill your end of the deal, she gets a fifty-year-old pervert from this pile of filth here.
“I dunno,” I say instead. It’s obvious there are things going on with this little… arrangement… that no one is going to tell me. I mean, come on. Vincent is identical to my dream guy, only he’s not insane and he’s not a killer. He’s filthy rich, he’s got some sort of sway in the Company, and if I’m his wife, I go from little girl to powerful woman in one breath.
It’s like…
Wow.
His fingers stroke the underside of my wrist as he waits for me to finish, but the sudden tingle that runs through my body steals my words.
I look down at his touches and then look up at his brilliant green eyes. They are smiling. “Hmmm?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“Why do you look so flushed?” he prods.
He must know why because he takes it one step further and picks up a strawberry from the small bowl of fruit on the side of my plate and touches it to my lips. I open them, unsure what choice I have, and take a bite.
The juice drips onto my lips and then he stands up and leans over the table and licks it off.
I blink up at him.
And then his hands are on my face and his tongue is on my mouth. His tongue is sweet from the champagne, and gentle as he teases me to see how far I’ll go.
I really don’t want to go far at all, but the trouble is, I don’t know how to say no. I have so little experience with men. James is the kind of guy who tells you what you need, even if you don’t want it. And I like to follow orders. I do it automatically.
Vincent must know this. He’s probably taking advantage of the fact that I’m so easily manipulated.
But
as soon as that thought manifests, he pulls back. “What’s wrong?” he says, leaning a little farther in so he can breathe the words into my ear. “You don’t like it?”
I didn’t have a chance to wonder if I liked it. “I’m sorry, I just… I just don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing here.” I inhale deeply and his scent fills my nose. It’s something I’ve never smelled before. It makes my mind swirl.
He leans back and takes his seat again. “Eating,” he says simply. “I thought you might like a bite of fruit before we started with the main meal.”
I bite my lip a little. “It was the kiss, that’s all. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing when you kiss me.”
This makes him chuckle and I hate myself for thinking it’s a nice rumbling sound. I picture James making that same noise when I lie on his chest in bed. “You can kiss me back, Harper.”
I press my lips together and swallow.
“You can tell me no.”
I stare into Vincent’s eyes. The eyes that remind me of James. How do two men look so much alike? And how is it fair that I’m having trouble understanding why this man, who looks exactly like the man I love, is not him? Especially when I ache so badly for his comforting touch and bossing ways. I don’t like to be in control of things. I’m not good at it. I have panic attacks, and I don’t think straight. I’m a fighter because I was conditioned that way by my brother. But that’s just me on the outside. The girl on the inside is so very, very weak.
“I’m not very good at saying no.”
“That’s because you want to say yes, Harp.”
The nickname jolts me out of my little trance. He’s so familiar with me. “Did you watch me every year, like James did? Did you come for my birthdays and watch me from afar?”
“God.” Vincent laughs louder this time. “I can’t believe that freak did that shit. It’s so sick.”
“What?” I’m confused.
“Harper, he was stalking you all these years. Your father was paranoid that he’d just steal you away or kill you in your sleep.”
