by JA Huss
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 s
tops 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.”
“What? That makes no sense. James loves me. My father sent him a plane ticket to wherever we were anchored for the party. He was just never allowed to see me in person.”
“Is that what he told you?” Vincent shakes his head. “No, baby, that’s not what was happening. James has been obsessed with you since that first year. He turned down the offer and I became your promise. James went on to become Six. He was captured in some shithole of a country that same year. They tortured him, scarred up his body real bad—”
“Wait.” I put up my hand. “He doesn’t have any scars. I’ve seen his body and it’s perfect.”
Vincent’s eyes narrow as he takes in the full meaning of my words. “Then you didn’t look close enough. He was treated with lasers after One rescued him, but they were not completely removed.” Vincent’s expression falters and he frowns for a moment. “You know, I loved him. I might’ve never known him since we were separated when we were two years old. But I knew of him and I loved him. I missed him too. I’m sorry he had that life and I had this one. I’d have given this all up to be his twin. I’d even have joined him. I would’ve been Six Point Five if we were allowed. You should understand that, Harper. How a twin feels about their sibling.”
And this I can relate to. I try and imagine my life without Nick. Nick, who protected me. Nick, who loved me unconditionally. Nick, who taught me to fight back and be strong. What kind of person would I be without Nick? “I’m sorry,” I say. “I bet that was hard.”
“It was. I don’t relish the fact that you’re mine and not his. I don’t have any jealousy of him. Why should I, Harper? Why should I be jealous of him? I look exactly like him. I have the same features. The same intelligence. The same natural abilities. But he’s so fucking damaged, you have no idea. He’s not safe to be around. He’s unstable in every sense of the word. He’s got no loyalties, Harper. Don’t mistake whatever you and he did together as meaningful. Because the Company has been watching him for more than a decade now. He takes women in every job. Befriends them. Fucks them blind. And then he kills everyone around them. And that’s exactly what he’s been doing with you.”
I can’t even breathe.
“He used you, Harper. He wanted that file you had to get even with your father for giving you to me. For making a mistake when he was sixteen that would change his life forever. He’s never forgiven them for not rescuing him quicker even though he knew, if you fuck up a job, the only ans
wer you’ll get from the higher-ups is denial. He knew going in if he was captured he’d be left behind. And One risked his life to save him.”
“So why has he been around so long? Why not kill him off ages ago?”
“Because he’s efficient, Harper. You don’t just train up a guy like Tet. All twenty-eight years of his life made him what he is. A killing machine. The perfect fucking assassin.” Vincent leans over again, cupping my cheeks in his hands. “I need you to understand this, Harp. He’s not the person you think he is. He’s manipulative, calculating, and deadly. I can’t blame you for falling for it. World leaders have fallen for it—”
My mind stops listening as I remember back when James was tallying up his kills back in the desert. Destabilized entire governments, he’d said. Too many to count, he admitted. What he did in Mexico counts as genocide.
He said it all right there. He told me everything Vincent is telling me now, only I never saw it clearly.
“—so don’t think that you ever had a chance, Harper. Because you didn’t. He’s been planning this since that first year he went looking for you on your birthday.”
“Planning what?” I ask, desperate to know what’s really going on.
“To use you, Harper. He’s going to kill your entire family, and he’s gonna use you to do it.”
Chapter Seventy-Three - Harper
I think about this for a second. My first instinct is to defend James. He’s not using me to get revenge. He’s not using me to kill my family. He loves me.
But I can’t bring myself to say it out loud and when I look Vincent in the eyes, he knows this. He knows I’m having doubts about James.
“Eat,” Vincent finally says. “You’re not eating.”
“How can I eat when you just told me he’s going to kill my brother and father?”
Vincent reaches over to stroke my cheek. “Harper, just let us take care of it, OK? We know Tet’s plan. We know how he works. We know what he’s after. So if you just trust us to take care of it, you will never have to think about him again.”
