by H. M. Ward
Don’t react. I chant the words over and over again to prevent myself from lunging for the collar. I remain in place, dripping on a billionaire, and getting wetter by the moment.
He twists the band between his fingers and looks at it. “The fact that I know you’re smart isn’t the issue here. No, my thought is singular. The question is, can David Cunning win my case without you? My thoughts on the matter are clear.” He smirks, and those eyes connect with mine, making my stomach plummet to the pavement. “It would be a shame if this were to turn up at your office.”
I work my jaw and let out a crazy sounding laugh. “What do you want?”
Sean steps out of the car, into the rain. His dark hair is instantly wet and hanging in his eyes. He leans in, close enough to touch without touching, and speaks next to my ear. “When I decide, I’ll let you know.” He pulls back a little bit and looks at me. It’s as if he wants to say something, but he’s conflicted.
There’s a war raging inside of him. I can see it. His walls are thick and hardening. Sean Ferro will be a devastatingly ruthless man when this is over. The worst part is that I’m the one who made it happen.
When he speaks again, his voice is softer. “I’ll be in touch.” The last word purses his lips so that they nearly touch mine. In the cold rain, I can sense his warm lips. I almost lean in, but I’m afraid.
What have I done?
* * *
The trial drags on and every day my stomach is in knots waiting for him to expose me. David is the king of black and white. There is no room for anything like Club Noir in his office. No explanation could make him understand, so I remain silent, waiting.
Sean’s demeanor becomes colder in court. I don’t even need to draw attention to it anymore. He’s becoming the monster I painted him to be—sitting there stoic and calloused. When we show pictures of his dead wife, he doesn’t cry, look away, or show any signs of remorse. David uses Sean’s apathy, drawing attention to it. He’s not the only one. The press is there every day, and they never give up.
Sean has a never-ending stream of people who swear at him and curse him as he comes down the steps of the courthouse every day. Tonight, I remain on the top steps watching him descend. They hurl insults along with malicious words. New Yorkers aren’t kind people to begin with, and Sean has crawled under their skin. They think he’s a killer, that he brutally murdered his pregnant wife and called 911 while laughing about it. I may have leaked that part. It was the nail in the coffin of his public perception.
As Sean’s feet shuffle down the steps, he stops. David is speaking to a reporter and can’t turn to look, but I can. An older man yells at him, his reddened face haggard as he yells. Sean’s spine is straight, and he doesn’t flinch. He stands there taking the verbal assault. His jaw is locked, almost defiantly so. His hands hang by his sides, and his fingers rest against his suit pants. The hand closest to me, the hand that’s turned away from the crowd, presses into his leg for a moment. It’s the only sign this man has affected Sean in any way.
When I get home later, I push the door open and stand on the threshold. Jess is belting out Abba at the top of her lungs while dancing around the apartment with headphones on. Her eyes are closed, and she’s a dancing queen. I wish I could forget reality that easily. Maybe I need more Abba.
Or maybe not. I close the door and stand in the hallway staring at the knob. My life is a black hole. It sucks everything to oblivion. I’m so turned around I no longer know what to do. It’s almost midnight. I’ve been shuffling through files and looking at papers for David all night. I’m seeing double and ready to pass out.
I press my back against the wall and slide down to the floor. I stick my feet out in front of me and kick off my heels. I watch at the stairwell for a while, not thinking anything until two feet stop in front of me. Shiny expensive shoes by that new guy—I’m blanking on his name. When I glance up, I nearly choke. “Sean?”
He stands there, still wearing his suit from court. His dark hair is hanging in his eyes like he was pulling at it for hours. The dark circles under his eyes that have grown too big to go unnoticed. His hands are by his sides. He flexes his fingers once, then twice, and clears his throat before he speaks. “I’ve changed my mind.”
* * *
I’m still sitting on the floor, legs crossed at the ankles, and looking up at him. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
Jess belts out from behind the door, “I’m the dancing quee-bfff!” There’s a series of thuds as she falls to the floor. I pinch the bridge of my nose and try not to laugh. I’d ask if she’s okay, but she’s already singing again and jumping around the room.
The guy below us is banging on the ceiling and yelling, “Shut the fuck up!”
I look up at Sean with tired eyes and take a deep breath before pushing my hair out of my face. “Listen, I’m no longer interested. As you can see, I need to keep my roommate from getting evicted for being young, free, and way older than seventeen. I’m living with the dancing queen. She’s kind of a pain in the ass, and I’m not in an Abba mood or I’d be on the other side of the door.”
Sean presses his lips together as if he’s trying not to laugh. “I can see that.”
I give him a look. “Bite me.”
“I already offered. You said you’d rather help out your friend. Have a good night.” He turns and heads for the stairs.
Before he’s down the first step, I call out, “Who was that man?”
He stops and looks over at me. “Amanda’s father.” There’s no further explanation. He just turns and vanishes down the staircase.
“Wait, what?” I scurry to my feet, scooping up my shoes and bag, before rushing after him. “Sean, hang on a second.” I’m a flight above him and see his dark head bobbing down the flight below. One more and he’s out the door.
No wonder why he came looking for me tonight. His own father-in-law publicly accused him of murder. I slip as I round the landing and catch myself before I fall on my butt. I make a weird strangled sound before I right myself. Sean stops and looks up. He stands perfectly still, and those bright blue eyes look up at me. His lips are parted the tiniest amount as if he wants to speak. His strong hands grip the banister harder making his fingertips turn red. He closes his eyes and turns his face to the side for a moment, working his jaw. When he opens those dark lashes, he drops his hand from the railing and continues down the staircase.
“Sean!” I call after him and fly down the stairs, but he’s too far ahead of me.
He disappears through the door before I reach the ground floor. Panting, I shove out the glass door and onto the sidewalk. My stockings cling to the pavement as I take a few steps in each direction, trying to see where he went. There are too many people, even now. New York never sleeps. It’s always running, always bustling. Yellow cabs blur by as the sound of the city fills my head. I walk down the block and try to see if he’s on foot, but Sean probably ducked into his car and took off.
Today was one of the worst days of his life. Tomorrow won’t be better. Sean knows that. It’s why he was here, and I turned him away. I press my fingers to my forehead to ward off a headache and dip my head.
A hand touches my shoulder lightly and jerks me from my thoughts. I scream like a crazy woman and round on my assailant with my heels aimed at his face. A strong arm juts up and blocks me before my heel connects with his temple. Breathing hard, I stand there staring into Sean’s face.
He opens his mouth and then shuts it again. He does it several times before he says, “I can’t go home. I can’t. Not today. Not ever again. If I walk away from this, I’m leaving New York. I’ll never come back.”
I watch his lips move and notice that he’s pulled his tie loose from around his neck. Stubble dusts his normally clean-shaven face, and his eyes look weary. I nod and lower my gaze to the sidewalk. “I can understand that.”
“Come with me. Tell me what you know—how you live with it. You started to, and I told you to stop. I judged you when I should h
ave been listening.” He’s watching me so intently that the pit of my stomach drops.
Just then, a woman walks by and spits on Sean. She keeps walking and screams, “Monster!”
Sean removes his handkerchief from his breast pocket and wipes it away. He doesn’t seem phased, but I know he isn’t unaffected. “Don’t pity me.”
“I don’t. I agreed with her at one point.”
“And now—?”
Inhaling sharply, I blurt out the thoughts I’ve wanted to say for so long. “Now I wonder what I would have done if they'd said I’d killed my mother. I wonder how I would have survived if they thought my hands were covered in her blood because I hurt her, if they hadn’t realized I tried to help even though it was too late. Now I realize what I’ve done. There’s only one monster standing here, Sean, and it isn’t you.”
His castle keep is built, and sealed. There’s no light in his eyes, not anymore. Sean holds out his hand. “There’s a hotel not too far from here. Come with me.”
* * *
I remain in the bar until Sean finishes checking into a room, and then meet him there. No one can see us together. I have something he needs, I’m just not certain I want him to try it out on me. Once Sean understands what I’m about to tell him, he will be truly frightening.
I raise my hand to knock on the door, but it swings open before I make a sound. Sean is standing there in his dark pants and a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck, the tie long removed. One hand holds a crystal glass with amber liquid while the other holds the door open. “Come in.”
I pass under his arm, wishing my racing heart would slow down. My palms are sweaty, and I can’t swallow. Nervously, I glance around the room. It’s large, with a big four-poster bed overlooking the city from behind wraparound picture windows and a little balcony. There’s an enormous white marble bathroom off the bedroom with a tub and a separate shower.
I pull off my heels and pad over to the windows in my ripped stockings. The city always looks so peaceful from up high. I press my fingers against the cold glass and look down.
I feel Sean behind me. His presence is unmistakable because it’s both alluring and frightening at the same time. “Tell me what to do.”
I turn and look up at him. His body is tense, with every muscle corded tight. “I can’t. It doesn’t work that way, Sean. You have to find it—something that makes you feel free and in control. It’s not going to be something we’ve already done, or you’d know. It’s going to be something different every time, something I wouldn’t want to face in the daylight, never mind at night.”
“Explain.” He sets the glass down on top of the bar, and then walks over to me. He takes my hands and pulls me toward the bed.
I move slowly, one foot and then the other. “I don’t know how it works, but when I was with you the other day—it was like that. It freed me for a while. It’s almost as if your fear fed my peace.”
“It’s a parasite relationship.” He rubs his thumbs over the back of my hands, down by my wrists. He glances up at me from under his lashes, wanting to hear more.
“In some ways, yes, I guess it is. What I did to you—it was something you didn’t want. If you hadn't been chained, what would you have done?”
He blinks and drops my hands, ready to step away, but I reach out and take hold of his wrists. “You know, so tell me. You had a clear thought—something that wasn’t kosher.”
He pulls away and turns his back on me. “It was far past kosher, farther from sane than anything I’ve ever thought before. It was an image, something that I couldn’t do to anyone, especially not you.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s cruel.” He looks over his shoulder and swallows hard. Those eyes that have been so cold and unfeeling fill with an unreadable emotion.
“What I did to you was cruel. I stole something from you—something you intended to keep for her—right?”
He turns toward me and nods. “What you did was not fucking, what you did was sex—and sex is like food, it’s a necessity of life. You destroyed an act I wanted to keep pure.” Anger seeps into his voice, and he does little to hide it.
“I wanted it, so I took it. That’s the way this works. It requires more trust than anything else. I’m giving you permission to take me to the edge and hold me over the side—just don’t drop me. That’s the only rule. Don’t push me so far I can’t come back.” I touch his arm and look up at him.
He pulls away and shakes his head. “I can’t. It’s too much. It’s over the line, a line I don’t want to cross.” His voice fades on the last words.
I walk up behind him and speak carefully. My hands hover over his back. “It’s something you need to do, something you want, or you wouldn’t have come looking for me. You don’t need a fuckbuddy, Sean. You need someone who can both dish it out and take it. You need me.” I rest my hands on his shoulders and trail my finger along the back of his neck, knowing he’ll hate it.
Sean rounds on me faster than expected and shirks me off. “Don’t.”
“Do it.” I step closer to him.
Sean shakes his head and backs up. “No. Let me think.”
“There’s nothing to think about. It’s an instinct. Act on it. Do it.” I reach for him again, trying to bait him. I touch his cheek, tracing my finger along his jaw before his hand grips mine hard and throws me off.
Sean sits down on the bed, grabs his head in his hands, and pulls at his hair. “I can’t accept this. I shouldn’t have come here.” His voice is barely audible. He runs his hands through his dark hair a few more times before gritting his teeth and shaking his head.
He’s fighting his moral compass. It’s telling him not to cross this line. Maybe I should listen. Maybe I should leave, but I feel I owe him this. Before I know what I’m saying, I tell him, “It was me. I’m the one who suggested you’re a monster. It was my idea to make people think you were laughing when you called 911. The woman who spit on you today—I can take credit for that. Everyone hates you because of me. It wasn’t David or anyone else. I took this case because I wanted everyone to hate you as much as I did.”
As I speak, he continues to hold his head in his hands, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t breathe. A moment of silence passes between us and when Sean stands I’m truly afraid. The way he looks at me makes my body react. My fight or flight instinct kicks in and my feet want to run, but I lock my knees in place.
“You did that? You were the one who told those lies?” His eyes narrow to thin slits and I know I’ve given him enough reasons to leave his morals behind.
“Yes.” I say it proudly and smile at him. “All of it was my idea, and whatever you want to do now, I’m saying yes. Cane me, whip me, tie me up and use me. Do whatever it is you imagined.”
Sean leans in close to my ear and grabs the hair at the nape of my neck. He jerks my head back and hisses in my ear. “I’m going to take you to the edge and hold you there until you scream for me to stop, but I won’t. That’s what you’ve done to me with your lies. You wanted a monster, Miss Driskill—well, here he is.”
It’s part of the game, part of the play. I know it is, but I’m shaking so hard I can’t stop. I try to pull away, but he won’t let me. Before I can scream, Sean twists me around, ripping off my blouse and tearing the fabric as he goes. He takes it in his hands and tears it down the middle, twice, making one strip of cloth and then another. Gasping, I stand frozen, watching. He reaches for me again and rips off my skirt, and tosses it aside. I’m left standing in a pair of white undies and a nude colored bra.
He looks at me, his eyes seeing something else, something to come. He rips off my bra and then while I’m still screaming from that, he grabs my panties with both hands, tearing them off my body.
No. Oh, God, no! Trembling, I back away from him. I know what he’s doing, and I’m panicking—I can’t submit to what he wants. Hands up, palms toward him, I shake my head and plead. “Please, don’t. Not this.”
He doesn’t lis
ten, nor does he stop. He takes my wrists and pulls them behind my back, tying them together with the scraps from my panties. After that, he pushes me down on the bed, face-first, holding me there until I can barely breathe. When he pulls my hair, my head tips back and my mouth hangs wide open, gasping for air. Suddenly a strip of cloth—my shirt—is gagging me. He stuffs the fabric into my mouth then ties a second layer across it and behind my head.
Every movement is executed precisely—as if he'd been there, as if he'd seen the files of how my mother was raped and stabbed. They used her clothes to tie her up and gag her. They forced her onto the bed, and then dragged her onto the floor in the kitchen and stabbed her in the side after drawing on her arms and legs with the tip of the blade.
He can’t. I pull at my bindings, but they’re becoming tighter. My wrists ache, and I struggle to breathe. He holds me on the bed, leaning on my back, as I fight against him, but there’s no point. He’s too strong.
When I feel the cold cloth around my ankles, I lose it. I try to kick, feeling my mind slip too far into panic. My heart is ready to burst through my chest, and my mind can’t process that this is real. I feel something within me wither and back away. It slips from place, like a fallen ribbon.
Sean pushes me to the floor and binds my feet behind my back. They raped her before they did this. Sean didn’t rape me. He didn’t touch me like that, but the rest is the same, accurate. Using my clothes, ripping them, throwing me on the floor and tying me like this. Everything is identical, except the rape. My face presses against the carpet, and I’m helpless. I lay on my belly, tied up like an animal. Sean walks past me and turns off the lights one by one, plummeting us into darkness.
The weight of my body in this position makes my breasts ache. I never lay like this; I never want to remember that night. Now I’m reliving it in a way I never imagined. Tears roll down my cheeks as I wait for the next part. I wonder if he’ll cut me, if he’s lost his mind. When I feel the cold steel on my leg, I scream into the gag. I try to pull away, but I’m bound too tightly. I feel the cold cuts of a blade, one by one, followed by a warm drip of blood. He does one leg and then the next, marking me with the same symbols, the same words. When he straddles my back, I already know what he’s going to carve into my skin. WHORE. It was there on my mother.
