by Mia Sheridan
Yes, she loved spending time with Haddie, but she also hid behind her sometimes, used her as an excuse not to put herself out there, not to risk being hurt.
In her secret heart of hearts, she worried no man would ever want her again and so why even go through the motions of meeting one? It would only lead to disappointment.
She’d honestly convinced herself to forget she was still a woman, and not just a mom, a daughter, someone’s friend or employee. She’d forgotten she was more than the roles she played for others, most of which she loved, but that wasn’t the point.
Camden West had reminded her for a few brief moments, and then confirmed all her fears and insecurities. I won’t let it. No one else got to decide her value. Only her.
You’re stronger than you think you are.
She’d said those words to Kandace once, a very long time ago, and for some reason, they rose inside her mind in that moment. She didn’t know why. She hadn’t recalled that day for years . . . Kandace’s tears, her hurt, the way she felt forgotten, and Scarlett’s fervent desire to comfort her friend with words she knew to be true. Kandi was strong, she just hadn’t been able to see it the way Scarlett did.
Standing there looking in the mirror, Scarlett felt an emotion not unlike grief twisting through her. Scarlett felt forgotten too. Not by anyone else, but by herself. She’d put herself last for a long, long time, and perhaps that was just the way it had to be, but it didn’t mean the realization felt good. It didn’t mean things had turned out the way she’d pictured when she’d been a little girl full of dreams of love. A family. Someone to lean on at the end of a long, hard day.
And it didn’t mean that putting herself last was what she wanted to model for Haddie. She wanted Haddie to know that she was worthy of claiming joy, of reaching for it. She wanted Haddie to bless the world with all the gifts that were unique to her—no matter what that might entail—instead of hiding in the shadow of service to others. That didn’t mean that she’d forsake those she loved. It didn’t mean she wouldn’t care for those who depended on her, and even those who did not. It simply meant that she mattered too. She was worthy of happiness. Every woman was.
Seize the day, Scarlett.
Go. Go now.
She straightened her shoulders. Okay, then. “Fallen woman, my ass,” she said to her reflection. There were no fallen women. Just women who had made mistakes and deserved grace, not judgment. And perhaps that meant starting with the person she was staring at in the mirror.
Scarlett grabbed her purse and headed for the door.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Thirteen Years Ago
Kandace slammed the erasers together, a cloud of chalk dust bursting in the air before her and causing her to cough and sputter. She leaned away, rubbing any dust off her face with her forearm and setting the erasers back on the board.
“Cheap bastards,” she muttered. She was well aware of Lilith House’s rates—her mother had thrown the information in her face—and so she knew very well they could afford a cleaning staff, but chose instead to use their students for slave labor.
Of course, she knew very well that wasn’t the reason housekeepers weren’t employed at Lilith House. Oh no, it was to ensure as few as possible were privy to what was really happening there.
Then again, maybe she shouldn’t complain. The two hours she spent cleaning classrooms every afternoon was the only alone time she got, and Kandace needed that time to think. To plan. She needed that time to attempt to come to terms with the situation she found herself in.
Feelings of dark despair began descending and with effort, she pushed them away, picking up the trash can and emptying it into the larger bag she’d brought with her. She was working hard to keep the panic that lived inside her at bay, but it grew harder with each day.
Because with each day, her pregnancy grew as well. If she remained there for the entirety of her sentence, there would be no way to hide it. No way. Thank goodness their uniform was loose and shapeless, but she couldn’t hide underneath that indefinitely. She was already at least five months along, though her stomach was still only slightly rounded, due in part to her willowy stature, but also because she hadn’t had much of an appetite in the last several months.
Kandace turned as the door opened and Ms. West walked through. “Oh sorry. I didn’t realize you were in here,” she said. “I just need to grab my lesson plan.”
Kandace’s heart jolted. Ms. West. Kandace didn’t have her for any classes, but in passing, she’d heard the other girls speak well of her. She was an attractive older woman with a black bun and large blue eyes that seemed to continuously dart around. Sort of a nervous type, but who wasn’t—other than Ms. Wykes and Jasper—around there? And Kandace knew she was their tutor. The three abandoned basement-dwellers. Kandace wondered how she looked at herself in the mirror and still accepted that those children were prisoners there? How did she sleep at night, knowing those kids had been essentially locked away all of their lives? No socialization . . . no parental love. Only shame. In a way she could relate—maybe most of the girls at Lilith House could as well—but certainly not to this extent. And yet Dreamboat was kind. Caring. That was a small miracle in itself.
“I’m almost done. Stay if you need to.”
Ms. West stepped around the desk, opened the top drawer, grabbed a folder and held it up. “This is all I need. Have a good afternoon.”
Panic flared within Kandace. This was her chance. It might be her only one.
“I met them,” she blurted.
Ms. West stopped, turning slowly, a look of surprised concern on her face. “I’m sorry? Met . . . them?”
Kandace nodded, placing the garbage bag on the floor and stepping closer to Ms. West. “I just need a minute of your time. Please.”
Ms. West glanced toward the closed door. “This isn’t a good idea,” she said, taking a step away from Kandace. “And it isn’t your place to speak to me or any of the staff—”
“I’ve been thinking,” she said, hurrying on. “What’s the plan? Does anyone even know of their existence?” She thought of the barely lucid kid staring at her as she’d been violated. He always kicks up such a fuss . . . She had a flash of the thick Bible Dreamboat had been reading from. It only made sense. Those emotionally needy kids were being indoctrinated, slowly and consistently exposed to what was happening at Lilith House, Biblical teachings being twisted and skewed to provide a moral justification. Dreamboat was resisting. Protecting that little girl because he was naturally noble. But for how long? How long until they drained any fight in him? How long until all three of them became monsters too?
Ms. West grasped the folder to her chest as though it was a lifeline. “Pay no attention to them. They do not exist,” she hissed, but then something broke in her expression. She glanced toward the door and then away. “It’s best for them and for you.”
“It sounds like it’s best for you. But not for them. They’re children. They haven’t done anything wrong. They can still be saved.”
Ms. West pulled her shoulders back, but she was clearly distraught. “I’m sorry, what did you say your name was again?”
Her heart raced. This was a risk. But what other choice did she have? Her only hope was to verbalize what Ms. West must know but perhaps wasn’t admitting to herself, and hope to God she had a scrap of sympathy for those kids. “The only choice is to get them involved in what’s happening here. I think you know that’s true.” Ms. West’s face went a lighter shade of pale. “Tell me, have others been taking on more of their education? Teachers you don’t trust? You tried to do right by them, didn’t you? But others are overruling you now. Those kids are a liability. They’re teens now. It’s time to think about their future. And their future is a lifetime of what’s happening upstairs, isn’t it? Or worse.”
Ms. West blanched, the folder she grasped trembling along with her hands.
“Oh yes, you know about that, don’t you? You all do, I suppose. How could you not?”
“No. I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you unwell? Perhaps a trip to the infirmary—”
“There’s really no other choice. Involve them in it so they either buy into the sickness or are so ashamed of their involvement that they never speak a word of it. Insurance.”
Ms. West opened her mouth to speak, but Kandace plowed on, taking a step closer. “He’s more than that. I don’t know about the other two, but he is. I think you know it too.”
Ms. West grimaced. She knew exactly who the he was that Kandace was referring to. Of course she did. He was special. Anyone could see that, especially this woman who had presumably been with them most of their lives. She took another step forward. “Who are their mothers?” she asked softly. “Help me help them, Ms. West. I think you might be the only one who can. If you give me some information, anything you’re able, I can bring back help. I’ll say you assisted me. I’ll say you didn’t know about the guild. I’ll swear to it.” She reached out, wrapping her hand gently around Ms. West’s arm. “Please. Please.”
For a moment their gazes held, the older woman’s wide and startled, Kandace’s pleading. Ms. West released a gust of breath, shaking Kandace’s hold off her.
“Like I said, I think you need to visit the infirmary.” She turned, picking up a piece of chalk and writing something low on the chalkboard. “Here’s the nurse you should ask for when you get there. She’s very knowledgeable about psychiatric issues brought on by repeated and long-term drug use.” She set the piece of chalk down and turned. “Now please, don’t speak to me again, Ms. Thompson. It won’t end well for either of us.” And with that she clutched her folder and breezed to the door, opening it quickly and letting it fall shut behind her.
Kandace’s shoulders drooped, disappointment and frustration making her want to scream. “Psychiatric issues, my ass,” she hissed. “What a bitch.” If that woman wouldn’t help them, no one would. They were completely on their own. Except for her.
A sense of deep responsibility overtook her, the unfamiliar need to protect. But Kandace had no proof that those kids were even there, nothing to use. “Fuck,” she said, kicking the edge of the desk like a helpless child.
What about the pregnancy? You have that. It’s proof that one of those men raped you.
Is it?
Now that she was thinking about it more clearly, she realized that if that was all she had, it might not be enough. She’d run away. And she’d make accusations that what? Some guy in town knocked her up in some illicit sex racket? They’d say she was crazy. A liar. Nothing new. She didn’t even know what the guy who’d impregnated her looked like. She’d been unconscious. Even if she hadn’t been though, even if she could point her finger directly at the man, she was worldly enough to know it’d go like this . . . yes, she snuck into town and seduced me. I’m so ashamed to have had dirty, illicit sex with that filthy woman, but it was consensual. It’d be her word against his, and as it’d been pointed out quite often, Kandace was a known liar. And a whore.
No, she needed more. And she wanted more. She no longer just wanted to leave, she needed to save those kids. But then she considered the last time she’d gone searching for truths there. The scalding water. The steel brush. The welts. The bruises upon bruises under bloodied skin. Would she survive if disciplined again?
Kandace suddenly wasn’t sure. Ms. West could go straight to Ms. Wykes now. Oh God. She placed her hand on her stomach. What had she done?
She took the two steps backward and leaned against the board, letting her head fall back against it with a soft thud. Hopeless. This was hopeless.
Kandace turned her head, her gaze going to the place where Ms. West had written the infirmary nurse she’d recommended to Kandace. Weird actually. Why would she tell Kandace the name of the infirmary nurse? She’d been there for months. Only . . . Kandace pushed herself off the board, moving closer to the chalk-drawn letters. It wasn’t only one name. It was three. Kandace sucked in a surprised breath, glancing over her shoulder. It wasn’t a nurse’s name at all. Ms. West had given Kandace the names of the kids’ mothers.
Kandace read them once, then again, committing them to memory. Then she picked up the eraser and wiped the board clean.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Scarlett took a sip of wine, the crisp pinot grigio sliding down her throat. This was her third glass in two hours and she hadn’t spotted hide nor perfect golden hair of Royce Reynolds or any member of his entourage.
But it’d been five minutes since she’d watched the two men she recognized as part of Royce’s security team, chatting in low, serious tones as they walked to the bank of elevators and disappeared into the car at the end that she knew rose to the suites.
Despite the wine buzz, the sight of them had energized her. She hadn’t necessarily expected that any of the same people that had been part of Royce’s team eight years ago would still be part of it now, but it could not be a coincidence that Royce was—probably—staying at this hotel, and she’d just spotted those men.
Follow them.
Scarlett took in a deep breath, pulling a tip out of her purse and setting it on the bar with a nod to the bartender. The wine went to her head as she stood and she faltered slightly, straightening her dress, and walking into the lobby. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a man with a familiar walk and did a double take. Her heart jolted. Was that . . . no. He walked behind a large pillar and when she leaned around it to get a better look, he was gone. Feeling suddenly off kilter, as though two worlds had collided in some unknown way that she didn’t understand, she moved toward the nearby restroom door, heading inside where she stood at the long row of sinks, taking deep cleansing breaths as she tried to decide what to do.
“Party? Presidential suite?”
Scarlett turned her head, looking at the girl a few sinks down, leaned toward the mirror, slicking lip gloss on her lips. She eyed Scarlett, her gaze going to Scarlett’s dress and down to her heels.
Presidential suite? Scarlett paused but then nodded, noting that the young redhead was wearing a black dress similar to hers. Had she unwittingly dressed for some part she hadn’t realized she was playing?
The girl smiled. “We can ride up together.” Scarlett followed her from the restroom, and they both headed toward the last elevator where the two men had gone a few minutes before.
The girl entered a code and then pulled out a compact and a tube of lipstick, using the tiny mirror to begin applying pink gloss to her lips. “At least they pay well, you know?” she said.
“Pay well,” Scarlett parroted.
Are you sure about this, Scarlett? You’re sort of acting like a crazed groupie.
No, this isn’t for me. This is for Haddie.
The girl looked at her suspiciously, her gaze sweeping from her feet to her hair. “First time?”
Scarlett widened her eyes and bobbed her head and the girl nodded, her expression morphing into understanding, her eyes returning to the small mirror as she slicked more gloss over her top lip.
“You’re lucky, then. It’s a tough gig to get. Don’t be nervous. They’re just looking for a good time. An anonymous good time that won’t end up all over the tabloids, you know?”
“Oh . . . uh, yes, right,” Scarlett said, a burst of nervousness prickling her skin. Tabloids. Which meant Hollywood. Which meant Royce. Maybe. Oh God, was this wise? What if he wasn’t there but part of his security team recognized her?
No, she was absolutely not going to do this. What had come over her? This was an awful idea. Terrible. She’d been swept along by her fear for her daughter, and then odd timing and a strange coincidence, including her choice of a black dress and—she glanced down at the girl’s similar shoes—red heels, but it was time to turn back.
The elevator doors opened directly into the entryway of the suite where a beefy man sat on a stool. The girl linked her arm with Scarlett’s. “Hey, Johnny.”
Johnny tipped his chin. “Teagan.”
“She�
��s new,” Teagan said, indicating Scarlett.
He eyed her, but nodded, and they both passed by, stepping through the entryway into the room beyond where men mingled with women all dressed in black like them.
“Have fun,” Teagan said, letting go of her arm and walking ahead of her into the thick of the party. Thankfully, the lights were low, and some type of strobe moved around, casting the faces in flickering colored light and ever-deepening shadow. Scarlett stepped forward, tilting her head so her hair covered half of her face. Bad idea. Time to go. Scarlett attempted to turn back around and head to the elevator car and then book it out of there, but someone walking by jostled her, causing her to falter and step forward. “Sorry,” he mumbled drunkenly, attempting to right her.
She turned her head. “It’s okay,” she said as he moved past. On the other side of the entryway, the elevator doors slid closed. The men who she recognized walked by her, involved in their conversation, stopping right near the elevator, to the left of Johnny, and Scarlett backed into a shadowy corner, waiting for her chance to leave unnoticed. Crap.
She wasn’t supposed to be here. Her skin felt overheated. She was an interloper.
You wanted this, didn’t you? This is a bold stroke of luck, don’t you think?
She wasn’t sure.
Seize the day, Scarlett.
A ribbon of purpose wound through her. She was here, she might as well see what was what. Music played, something sultry and instrumental, and laughter rose, along with the clinking of ice in glasses.
There was a door to her right and Scarlett heard the unmistakable sounds of sex. She moved away, just far enough that the moaning and skin slapping were mere background noise to the moody saxophone strains, and then stepped behind a man as he walked by, heading deeper into the party. She’d circle around and hope that when she returned, those two men had moved away from her escape route.
