She is alone.
Or, well, she has been.
In me, she has found someone she can count on and it must terrify her. I know I’m scared half to death every time I think about how empty my life would be if I lost her.
For as long as she’ll let me, I’m going to be her person. The one who protects her.
Her lion.
34
Kingston
“Where are we going? This is ridiculous, Kingston. You’re going to ruin my makeup.”
Poppy giggles as I make sure the blindfold is still secure, while we sit in the car carrying us through the darkness and energy of the London night.
“That’s for me to know, and you to find out.” I squeeze her thigh, loving the way her skin feels under my fingertips.
Bloody hell, my cock is struggling against the zipper of my pants in an attempt to fraternize with the beautiful goddess beside me. She’s wearing some kind of short, sparkly dress that keeps riding up her thighs every time the car hits a bump in the road, and I want to scrap the whole idea of tonight and drag her to bed.
My intention is to take her to bed. I’ve proceeded with the utmost care and caution through the past couple of months. Phone sex, hitting each base one long period at a time, asking for permission each time I try something new. The only thing I haven’t asked for is the consent to …
Make love to her?
That sounds like a cheesy way to put it, but I don’t want to refer to it as shagging or fucking. When Poppy agrees to let me inside her, it’s going to be so much more than that. Even now, when we’re together, there is this … feeling.
I can’t quite describe it. You know those times in your life where the world just feels … more? As if the universe is this minuscule thing and you’re standing on top of it?
That’s how being with Poppy makes me feel. Larger than life.
The driver stops the car in front of the restaurant, the twinkling light awning out front winking at me as I help Poppy from the vehicle.
“Kingston, can you please take this off?” she protests, folding her arms over her chest as I spin her to face the direction I want.
“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Gently, careful not to ruin her perfectly made up face, I remove the blindfold.
Flourishing a hand, I wait for her vision to adjust. “Wait, you didn’t—”
I’m too excited to let her finish the sentence. “Get us a reservation at Marin? Why, yes, I did. Our own personal boat ride on the Thames, complete with candlelight, five-star cuisine, and a world-renowned violinist. Happy four-month anniversary, love.”
Puffing my chest out, I feel like Zeus presenting his queen with an entire planet as a gift. Poppy has been telling me for weeks how much she wanted to try this place. I’ve never done the attentive boyfriend thing, much less the boyfriend thing. I wanted to be, well, great. I want this night to be everything she’s ever dreamed of when she’s thought of romance, or of losing her virginity.
She inclines her head, grinning at me. “You remember the day we started dating? Also, I think you’re supposed to let the romance speak for itself, instead of detailing it out like some vacation package you won on a TV game show. But it’s so you, I’ll forgive it.”
“I want to give you everything you want.” Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pull her in.
Poppy pushes up on the toes of those shag-me heels and gently lays a kiss on my lips. “Well done, Mr. Phillips.”
When we check-in at the hostess stand, they let us know that they’re preparing our Thames cruise, which is the crown jewel of the restaurant. It’s been written about in the Sunday Times as one of the most breathtaking experiences of London you’ll ever get so, of course, I wanted to give it to Poppy.
And in one swift second, everything I want this night to be goes up in smoke.
“That’s him,” Poppy sputters next to me, and I swing my gaze to check on my girlfriend.
Her hand is clutching at her throat as if all the air from her lungs just disappeared.
I turn, and instantly, I spot the man she’s run away from twice in my presence. He’s standing across the restaurant, leaning against the bar chatting up a girl who is definitely younger than me. As if I couldn’t hate him more. Everything inside me seizes, and a ball of fiery anger, rage, and swift action lights me up from the chest out.
This is the man who hurt her. Raped her. Even thinking the word makes my blood boil. This adult male abused his power, took advantage of a naïve, innocent girl and stole the one thing no woman should ever have to give without consent. I want to murder him, strangle him with my bare hands until I see the light go out of his eyes.
But I’m not going to make a scene here. Sure, I want to rip that guy limb from limb. But that’s not what Poppy needs. She needs someone who is going to stand by her side rather than go off like a powder keg, leaving her to balance on her own. She deserves the kind of protector who will care more about her well-being than showing off the power of his punch.
And besides that, I don’t need my mug shot ending up in the papers. He’s a famous photographer, one who carries way more clout in these circles than I do. Everything I’ve worked for since meeting Poppy, being demoted and fighting my way back … I can’t just throw that away.
It’s best if I just get Poppy out of here.
“Come on, let’s go home. We’ll go back to Charlton House.”
She’s rooted to the spot, frozen as she stares at him. I’m almost tempted to snap a finger in front of her face, but she might tear it off. When I take hold of her hand, I find that she’s trembling, and something in my gut rolls. I’ve never seen her like this, so exposed and raw. Not even in our most intimate or private of moments. One look at her face and I know she’s terrified.
“Ah, look who we have here. Poppy Raymond.”
The bastard eats up the short distance between where we stand and where Poppy just spotted him. Nicolai DeCallen, a name I’ve googled and a man I’ve murdered in my dreams, wreaks of evil. You can tell that, right down to his soul, he’s rotten.
Neither Poppy nor I make any gesture of greeting. I think she’s so terrified, she’s lost her ability to speak. And me? I’m biting my tongue so hard I consume the metallic taste of blood. Perhaps if I don’t say anything, the worst scenarios in my head will never play out.
“I see you’ve landed a new man, Poppy. A younger, flashier prototype.” The wanker admires me, letting his sneer prickle over my skin. “Well, don’t forget that I discovered you. You may have been a sweet little fawn, but I was the man who popped that sweet cherry, Bella.”
A choked, gutted sound leaves her lips, and I see red. Here he is, in the middle of a room filled with throngs of people, openly mocking his rape victim. What in the world have we come to, as a society, as an industry, that this man feels comfortable airing his assault of a girl out in the open?
I get up, right in his face, my spit coating his nose as I clip out every word.
“What you did was rape a young girl. You abused her, lorded your power, and fundamentally changed her as a person forever. If I ever see you in her presence again, I will end you. I won’t ask if you understand me, because I don’t care. You are a swine, the most wretched human being I’ve ever met. And from this point forward, you will never see, speak to, or mention Poppy Raymond ever again. Or I mean it. I will obliterate you.”
And with that, I grab Poppy’s hand, forcing her feet to move as I drag her from Marin.
“You didn’t … you didn’t stand up for me. You barely said a word to him.” The sassy, ravaging girl I know doubles over, seemingly defeated, as soon as we make it out into the night air.
Her voice is a hollow thing, and it’s frightening me. “Poppy, it was better to just get out of there.”
Her eyes are empty as she looks up at me. “The one man I thought I could count on, and you weren’t there. I … I can’t do this.”
She straightens and turns, trying to bypass me. My arms shoots
out, trying to hold on to some part of her, because I can feel our relationship quickly unraveling. I can’t grasp the strings of our connection quick enough, and I can feel myself stumbling to catch up. But when I go to touch her, she recoils, and I know.
“Poppy, let me take you home. Right now is not the time. Don’t do this.”
How do I tell her that the only thing I was trying to do was protect her? That sometimes, a lion has to defend its pride by not engaging in a fight.
She’s retreating, crawling back into the shell of self-protection I coaxed her out of.
“Don’t follow me, Kingston.”
I’m left standing on the street, my heart a shredded thing. If I look down, I wouldn’t be surprised to see it bleeding out on the pavement.
35
Poppy
Two days later, a thirteen-year-old actress who posed for Nicolai on a movie set she was acting in, busts the world wide open when she begins criminal proceedings against him for rape.
When I first opened up the link that Claud texted me, reading the URL before reluctantly opening it, I thought the story was going to be some kind of convincing method my agent was using to get me to work with the bastard again.
And then the headline and picture loaded, and I dropped my phone on the hardwood floor. I couldn’t bend to pick it up, it was as if every muscle in my body stopped working. I was paralyzed, and so many thoughts ran through my head.
In a way, I am free.
I no longer have to carry this enormous secret, this unspoken axe that split my heart in two every morning when I opened my eyes. It’s a horrible thing to think that I’m not alone in my trauma, that there is someone else who was also hurt by Nicolai. Not being the only one is a mix of feeling relief that it wasn’t just me who welcomed the assault, but also a huge amount of grief over not coming forward.
Over allowing this to happen to someone else because of my silence.
It turns out, he has dozens of victims. Girls in the entertainment industry, models, musicians, and even some of his staff. All of us were coming out of the woodwork, and each day, a new victim of Nicolai’s, and her story, popped up in the news.
And as much as it ripped me apart from the inside out, made my stomach churn, turned my knees to pudding … I could no longer stay silent.
The first person I called, after hearing the news, was Claud. He sent me the link, we’d danced around the truth of it for years, and I finally just came out and told him the story. My agent wept as I told him what happened to me and apologized profusely for never having given me the atmosphere to talk about it. In truth, that was partly my fault, and I told him as much. For a long time, I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge that it even happened to me. But I did need to warn him about what would be coming, about how I’d need his help in the coming weeks, months and years.
Then, I rang Aria. I couldn’t speak to Jude about this—not that he wouldn’t find out. What I planned to do next, well, everyone would find out. But she was the one I trusted to keep it quiet, to help me arrange things, until I was ready to go public.
After I told her, she was silent for a very long time. I could hear the sniffling on the other end of the phone, and then she cleared her throat and said, “Tell me how I can help you take this bastard down.”
That’s how we got here, her holding my hand as we sit across from Jude’s publicist, Barry McCathers, and the lawyer he hired to handle my case.
“You’re sure you want to join the lawsuit. You’ll have to testify. Your account will be public record, the media will get their hands on it,” the lawyer, Anthony, tells me.
I nod. “He did this to so many other girls, who are so strong. Especially the one who finally came forward, who faced her fear when so many of us could not. What kind of message would I be sending to her, someone so much younger than I am and so much braver, if I didn’t stand up and share my story, too?”
Aria squeezes my hand and rubs the backside of it with her other hand. “You are stronger than anyone I’ve ever met.”
With the smallest of smiles, I incline my head at her. “Only now, when I’m forced to be. But I’m trying.”
We finish the meeting, going over every detail of filing my claim, as well as what will happen afterward. I know it’s going to be chaos. Every media outlet in the world will be calling, trying to get every gritty detail of what he did to me. I’ll have to wear the victim badge openly now which is something I never wanted.
But, like I said, I owe it to his other victims. I owe it to myself, if I’m being truly honest.
After the meeting, Aria takes me to our hidden cafe, the one I introduced her to. She pays for our cappuccinos, two pastries, and leads me to a table on the pavement.
I blow out a shaky breath, holding a hand to my stomach. “Why do I feel like I’m going to be sick?”
She smiles. “Because you’re doing the right thing, even if it’s scaring the living daylights out of you. It means you’re a good person, the best of us.”
“It doesn’t feel that way.”
“Give it time,” Aria says.
We sit in silence for a few minutes, watching the odd person walk past the cafe.
“Kingston is worried sick.” She breaks our contented quiet, and my stomach instantly knots.
As if she has to remind me of the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. It only took me about thirty minutes to realize I’d been a daft moron, lashing out at him for … what? Not slitting Nicolai’s throat right there and then? Blimey, I’m a twit. I wanted someone to blame, for someone to feel the pure agony I’d been feeling at that moment.
He was the closest thing, the easiest one to hurt just as much as I’d been hurting. And I was wrong. So bloody wrong.
What Kingston did for me, holding his composure, not reverting to his old ways but making sure I was his first priority to protect … it was everything I’d asked him to become over the last few months. He had been a man, the kind that was fiercely loyal and focused on my well-being, rather than a pissing contest with someone who wasn’t worthy in the least bit of either of our anger or time.
Of course, I saw that now. But how could I go back to him like this? I am an injured fawn, some creature caught in the crosshairs of chaos. I don’t know how long it will take to get back to the strong, independent woman he’d taken to.
“He doesn’t need to worry. I’ll be fine.” The waitress sets down our steaming mugs, and I take a sip to busy my hands.
“Poppy, you don’t need to play that game with me. I’m the queen of covering up my emotions. And I also tried to convince myself that none of it mattered. It nearly killed me and almost wrecked everything Jude and I have. Don’t make the same mistake.”
I sigh. “Aria, Kingston and I are not you and Jude. We’re dysfunctional and broken, and my life is about to become loads more complicated. He’s fragile, his newfound confidence hangs in the balance. He has so much he needs to focus on, least of all a woman with the kind of issues I’m dealing with.”
Aria tsks her tongue. “Old me would have agreed with you because she thought it protected the man she fell in love with. New me wants to smack you in the face. Kingston is one of the most devoted, loving, attentive people I know, once he’s given the chance to be. As for your complications, I’d say that’s his choice to make if he wants to be a part of them or not, not yours. Let him make it. Don’t shut out the love being offered up to you on a silver platter. It’s the best gift you’ll ever be offered. And if you turn it down, you’re even more of a daft model than I thought you were.”
She winks, signaling that the last part of her campaign speech for Kingston is just the kick in the trousers she thinks I need.
The only thing I keep hearing though is that what Kingston is offering me is … love.
36
Kingston
“Nice defending, Phillips!”
One of the Rogue coach’s calls out from the sideline, the mesh jersey over my practice kit moving in the wind as I punt the
ball across the field.
Being back on the RFC pitch, in the stadium, a part of the team … it’s done with a whole new set of eyes. I’ve been part of the organization since I was seven, but I never truly took it seriously until my first practice back about two weeks ago.
It’s as if I just discovered soccer, this energy source that lights up my veins and makes living easier. With every cut of my boots in the grass, every kick of the ball, every play I learn and every piece of knowledge I remember about the sport I love I fall back into this codependent relationship with it. Our first match, an off-season friendly that many of the starters will sit out, is in another two weeks. Niles told me I’ll be on the pitch from the opening whistle, and from that moment on, the competitive energy to let loose in a game has been pumping through me.
I also have nothing else to focus on to keep me from sinking into the doldrums of my heart-wrenching breakup, so I’ve been funneling everything I have into my play.
When Poppy walked away from me, it was the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to endure. I fought every instinct that told me to storm after her, to take what I want. In the past, I would have. I wouldn’t have taken no for an answer, I would have done more damage by forcing her to confront me, or her vulnerabilities.
More than my own past, or the family I grew up in, more than being sent to Narta or finding out what Nicolai had done to Poppy.
Losing her crushed me more than anything in my life ever had.
And knowing that I had to stand by and just feel it, rather than do something about, has been the toughest realization I’ve ever made. But, I had to do it.
I won’t be attempting to be the man she wants me to be if I don’t. Poppy needs space and time to heal, to grapple with the reality of her world now that everyone knows about what happened when she was fifteen. Every time I see a news report or receive an alert on my phone, a thunderbolt of sadness splits my heart even wider. The woman I’ve fallen in love with is hurting, and I have to be strong enough to respect her wish of not wanting me around.
The Lion Heart: Rogue Academy, Book Two Page 18
