by Livia Grant
“God damn him.” It was an under-his-breath curse, but she still heard it.
When he stopped to stare down at her legs, she knew the streak of wetness between her legs was now visible. By the time he wrenched his eyes up to meet hers, she saw rage and concern warring in his green eyes.
“Tell me the truth, Samantha. Did Cash hurt you?” She couldn’t have formulated words to save her life. The lump in her throat was almost choking her as she fought to hold back the wave of tears building up inside her like a coming hurricane. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold it off.
I need to get the hell out of here.
When she turned to leave, Jaxson reached out to hold her back. He was the third man to manhandle her in less than an hour. Unlike the two before him, he must have realized how his touch was affecting her because he released her, moving to stand in front of the door to block her departure instead.
She was so close to losing it. She was hanging on by a thread. She sensed Jaxson was an honorable man who was only trying to help her, but delaying her departure was making things worse.
“I promise you this. If he hurt you, I don’t give a shit who he is. He’ll be behind bars in an hour.”
He spoke so passionately that she believed him. The events of the night were so jumbled. With their long history, Samantha truly didn’t know how to process what had happened upstairs between her and Cash Carter. She knew she couldn’t let herself be swayed by the small glimpses of her Jonah she’d seen in Cash’s unguarded moments. For her sanity, she had to believe that she’d been with Cash tonight and that her Jonah was gone. The renewed pain of losing him, this time forever, struck her like a bolt of lightning, leaving only tears in its place.
Jaxson pulled her into a warm and comforting hug. The second his arms encompassed her, she felt safe for the first time that evening. The harder he embraced her, the harder her tears flowed until she was sobbing big ugly sobs against his expensive tuxedo.
“Everyone out!” She was only vaguely aware of his scooping her up and carrying her over to a plush couch along the back wall. She tucked herself into his chest, covering her face with her free hand in an attempt to hide herself from the grumbling groupies being forced to vacate their spot.
She suspected she should feel awkward being cradled by a near stranger, but for some odd reason, the handsome A-list millionaire made her feel safe—as if he were the big brother she’d never had, ready to protect her at all costs.
Like the gentleman he was, Jaxson pulled a cloth hankie from his inside tux pocket, holding it up for her to blow her nose as she slowly calmed down.
He pinned her with a concerned look. “You ready to talk about it?” he pried.
Unable to trust her voice, she settled for shaking her head.
He didn’t give up so easy. “Did he force himself on you?” Several silent seconds later, he pressed again, “Samantha, did he hurt you?”
She was ashamed of how completely she’d allowed Cash to crush her in every way. Physically and emotionally. How much of it was his fault, she was still not certain of. She’d been saving her virginity for him, unable to find someone else worthy of her special gift. That he’d taken her offering and trampled it broke her heart, but she suspected she bore some burden of guilt.
Her inconsolable tears filled the silence, leading Jaxson to his own conclusions.
“I’m gonna kill the bastard.” He juggled her in his lap to pull out his cell phone.
She knew he was calling the police, which was the last thing she wanted to happen next in the little soap opera playing out that evening. She reached to stop him, shaking her head until she found her words.
“Wait. No police.” She could see the storm brewing in his eyes and added, “He didn’t do anything I didn’t agree to.”
“So what’s wrong?” he pressed.
“I came to see my friend Jonah, but he’s gone. It makes me sad.” Her grief was so much more complicated than that, but those words were true.
He urged her for more details. “I’m not buying it. I think the police should help us sort this out.”
Visions of talking to police officers about what had happened merged with the fear of a medical examination followed by public outcry against Cash Carter. She shook her head to get the nightmare out of her head.
“I’m begging you. Don’t call the police. Jonah and I have a long and complicated history. I made a mistake coming here tonight. He shouldn’t have to pay a price for that.”
Jaxson looked doubtful. He hadn’t put his phone away yet.
She spoke up, “If you want to help me, can you call me a cab? I don’t live far, but I just want to go home.”
He had a way of looking at her that unnerved her. He knew she hadn’t told him the whole story and she could see him trying to decide how hard to push her. When he dropped his eyes to scan up and down her body, she knew things would get worse.
Sam pulled her leather coat closer around her, careful to hide her ripped blouse. It didn’t fool him. His right hand moved over her fist, gently but firmly pulling at her until her coat opened to reveal her ripped blouse and bra.
His voice was deceivingly soft, “I think it’s time to call the police.”
“Oh God, no. Just let it go. It would ruin him. He finally has everything he ever wanted.”
“Fuck that. And what about you?”
Defeated, she could feel what small fight she had left in her seeping out as she answered, “I got what I needed too.” She looked into his eyes, “Closure.” When he didn’t react, she added a final plea, “Please. I just want to go home.”
She held her breath as he used his phone to make a call. She exhaled with relief when he barked an order to have his limo brought around to someone on the other end of the line. After Jax hung up the call, he put his phone in the inner pocket of his tuxedo and came out with a business card.
“My driver will be here in a few minutes. He’ll take you anywhere you want to go.” He looked into her teary eyes as he pressed the card into her trembling hand. “If you need anything, ever, you call me.”
“Why?”
The handsome man softened as he answered, “You remind me of my Emma. And despite my current urge to beat him to a pulp, Cash is my friend. I don’t know your history with him, but even if Cash isn’t able to help you himself, I somehow know he’d want you taken care of.”
Sam wasn’t so sure of the validity of his assumption, but she took the card and slipped it into the side pouch of her tiny cross-body purse, certain she wouldn’t be using it. In her distress, she’d nearly left without returning the security keycard she’d used to get the elevator to go down. She held it out to him sheepishly, worried he might be angry.
“I’m sorry I took this. I used it to come down,” she whispered.
Jaxson took the card and reassured her. “I’m glad you did. I just wish I’d stayed behind. I should have trusted my gut and not left you alone” He spoke with such conviction, she believed him.
“It’s okay. None of this is your fault.” Her words did not convince him.
The next few minutes were a blur. She was grateful for Jaxson’s protection as they pushed to their feet, out from backstage, through a back hallway and out onto the main floor of a rowdy Runway dance club. He sheltered her from the pressing crowd and lingering press there to cover the grand opening. She kept her head low to avoid the flashing cameras from catching her face as they pressed through the VIP circular door together to find themselves in the frigid early December night.
The snow had continued to fall while she’d been inside. The club had put down salt to hold down the ice, but the resulting slush was slippery. She clung to Jaxson as he guided her to the open door of a stretch limo waiting at the curb. The burly security guard who had tried to eject her in the middle of the show stood holding the car door open, an unreadable expression on his face.
The men helped her into the back of the car. She sunk into the rich leather with relief.
Jaxson leaned in to talk softly to her. “I mean it. Call me if you need anything, even if you change your mind and need someone to go to the police with you.”
When the lump in her throat at his kindness prevented words, she nodded, letting a fresh tear fall down her cheek. For a second she thought he might swoosh it away, but he didn’t. He instead stood and closed the door before pounding on the roof, the signal to the driver he could take off.
She’d been trying to escape Runway for what seemed like hours, but was probably just minutes. Yet, as the limo started to pull away, a new panic consumed Samantha. She had this uncontrollable feeling that she had forgotten something—left it behind. Her brain knew it was her grief of finally cutting the last tenuous thread she’d maintained to Jonah over the years.
The ride to her apartment was only a couple of minutes, not nearly long enough for her to collect herself. When the door next to her opened, this time it was her doorman, Jamal, that greeted her.
“Well, I’ll be! You sure are coming home in style, Miss Stone. You must have had a lot of fun.”
As nice as Jamal was, she didn’t have it in her to converse with him as if she hadn’t just had her heart ripped out of her chest and trampled while she watched. She needed the privacy of her apartment where she could lick her wounds and put on a brave face that could fool the rest of the world that life was normal.
But life would never be normal again. It wasn’t the sex, although that was a huge enough milestone in her life to alter her forever. No, even without the benefit of time to examine the events of the evening, she knew the last of her innocence had been trampled. Her blind trust and adoration for Jonah had been naive and tonight, she’d paid a high price for that naivety.
The doorman held her elbow as they traversed the snow-filled sidewalk before making it into the lobby of the building. When he tried to press her for details of her evening, Samantha brushed him off, letting him know she was exhausted and would be sure to tell him more some other time.
Sam held her breath when she got in the elevator that would take her up to her third floor apartment. She normally preferred the stairs, but knew tonight her wobbly legs would buckle under further exertion. She managed to get the key out of her purse, taking a few extra seconds to open her door when the key jiggled in her trembling fingers.
Once inside, she didn’t bother to turn on any lights. She made sure the door was locked, bringing her immediate comfort, before she shuffled through the dark apartment, through her bedroom and into the bathroom. Her first stop was at the tub, pressing down the stopper and turning on the water as hot as she thought she could handle it. She went through the motions of preparing a bath as she had countless times in her life, moving on autopilot.
It wasn’t until she was naked and caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door that she froze, unable to look away from the disheveled reflection staring back at her.
Just like drivers couldn’t resist slowing to gape at accidents they were passing, Sam found she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the reflection of a woman she barely knew in the mirror. She examined the likeness from top to bottom, praying to see a spark of recognition.
Her long hair was askew, visible tangles jutting out at different angles, but it was the blotchy redness of her face that first alarmed her. She’d cried her makeup off completely. The only traces left were black lines of faded eyeliner and mascara that streaked below her eyes.
She looked away, unable to make the connection with her own eyes for fear of what she’d find in their depth. Instead, she could see several light bruises forming on her arms where Jonah and even the jerk Frank had grabbed her roughly. The brightest mark on her body, though, was the large hickey where her neck met her shoulder. She could make out teeth marks in the middle where Jonah had bit her. Memories of the physical pain of that moment were overridden by the disgraceful feelings of surrender his possession of her body had stirred in her.
By the time she lowered her gaze, her heart was racing erratically again. Without her skirt camouflaging her, the smears and streaks of her virginal blood were front and center. She tried to reason through the calendar, hoping to blame the red on an early cycle, but then got angry at herself for trying to excuse what Cash had done to her that night.
The word rape refused to be ignored.
It was such a horrible word. She had always thought rape was a black and white word. Like right or wrong. Up or down. Hot or cold.
In that moment, she accepted it was anything but. Part of her had hungered for his possession of her. She’d had many opportunities over the years to have sex, but each time she’d gotten close, memories of Jonah had resurfaced. She may not have answers to everything, but she knew this much. She’d saved herself for him and in some sick way, although the night had not gone the way she’d dreamed it would, she did get what she needed.
Closure.
Yet the thought of moving on with her life without her hidden obsession with Jonah scared the shit out of her. Letting go of her love for the man who had let her down was a bit like the child knowing they were ready to ride the bike, but still desperately afraid to take the training wheels off their bicycle.
Tomorrow.
As she contemplated stepping into the hot water to wash away the final remnants of the man she loved, she found she couldn’t do it. Not yet. She’d been strong and left her locket behind. She’d no longer have it to cling to in times of weakness. Once his cum was washed from her body, he’d be gone forever.
Yep, she’d wash him away tomorrow. She turned off the water, leaving the full tub, and instead walked naked through the dark to her bed. Samantha collapsed to the softness and pulled the blankets up high to burrow in.
She was finally safe to loosen the reins on her fear and anger, so how ironic that now the wall of tears she’d been holding back wouldn’t come. She suspected she was in shock, yet when exhaustion pressed in, she welcomed it. Anything to make her fall asleep and forget.
Jonah was standing at the mini-bar stocked with high-end alcohol when he heard the ding of the elevator. He’d been waiting for it. Jaxson’s arrival. He’d briefly thought about trying to sneak out, but it wouldn’t really do any good. There would be no hiding from what had happened that night.
When he turned from the bar, he saw Jaxson standing at the end of the bed, looking at the bright red stains of Samantha’s blood.
“I’ll buy you a new comforter,” he offered.
Jaxson looked up, fire ready to burn out of his eyes he was so angry. “Tell me, and it better fucking be the truth. Did you rape her?”
Had he? He suspected he should know with certainty one way or the other, but he didn’t. “No, but… I did hurt her.”
Jaxson took a few steps closer and then stopped short as if he was afraid he’d hit Jonah if he got any closer. “Just so you know, I offered to call the police for her, but she declined.”
Jonah’s heart constricted with the news. “You saw her?” Jax nodded. He didn’t have the right to know, but he asked anyway. “How was she?”
Jaxson moved closer, bypassing his chance to knock out Jonah and picking up a bottle of high-end vodka instead. After he’d done a shot, he turned to Jonah to answer.
“She was a fucking mess. Crying. Trembling. I saw the blood and it even looked like you bit her neck. So you have about two minutes to explain what really happened up here before I call the police myself. She was no sub, here for rough fun.”
He suspected he should be worried about the police threat, but in that moment, he was more worried about losing himself to the guilt closing in on him at the thought of really hurting Sam.
“No, she’s not a sub, but she is… well was… a virgin.”
“Christ! You forced yourself on her!”
“No. You don’t know shit about it.”
“Then explain it to me… fast.”
“Fuck off, Jax. This is none of your damn business.”
“The hell it’s
not. That’s my bed and blanket her blood is on. She’s in my limo on her way home. I sent her into this locked room to wait for you. I’m your accomplice.”
Jonah panicked. “It wasn’t rape.”
“What was it then?”
“History.”
“Old girlfriend?”
“More.”
“More? You don’t do relationships so what’s more than a girlfriend to you?”
He hesitated, unsure there were words to capture his feelings. “Fuck. I guess soul mates.”
He could tell by his wide eyes, he’d surprised Jaxson. Jonah pressed forward, oddly excited to share his secret story with his friend. “I met Sami when she was in second grade and I was in fourth. I was new in that school and she came to my rescue from a group of bullies making my life hell on the bus every day. She stuck her neck out for me. Stood up to them. I was only ten at the time, but no one had ever done anything like that for me before, well other than my mom.”
“I’m guessing there is a bit more to the story than that.”
Jonah choked out a bark of fake laughter. “You think? It’s just the tip of the iceberg. And no offense, because I really do appreciate your help more than you can ever know, but I meant it when I said it isn’t any of your fucking business.”
Jax closed the distance between them, bumping their chests together in an aggressive move. “That young woman was in shock when she left here. You can try to spin this any way you want, but you and me, we both know the truth of what happened here tonight. Her blouse was ripped. She was bleeding. You’re done here. You aren’t the kind of Dom I want in Black Light. Worse, you aren’t the kind of man I want around my Emma.”
“Screw you, Jax!” Jonah shouted, determined to take some of his lingering aggression out on his friend.
Instead, Jaxson’s cell phone started to ring. He took the call.
“Hey, Harry. Everything okay?” Jaxson listened to the report and hung up, pinning Jonah with a darker glare. “She cried all the way home. You happy?”
He should be. He’d finally got the revenge he’d hoped for, but instead, he let the wave of guilt he’d been pushing down below the surface crash in on him.
