What's Left of Me

by Kristen Granata

  “She’ll be fine,” Tommy says. “I didn’t hit her that hard.”

  Spoken like a true piece of shit.

  When we reach Park Avenue, Clemmons pulls down on a side street near Evangeline’s building. The van jerks to a stop, and Evangeline stirs beside me. With heavy lids, she blinks up at me, looking confused and disoriented.

  I lean down and whisper, “Don’t worry. You’re home now. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  I push open the back doors and Tommy yanks Evangeline out of the van. He and Clemmons carry her to the sidewalk and toss her onto the pavement.

  Then we drive away and ditch the van, parting ways as if nothing ever happened.

  We just scared the shit out of a young, innocent girl. All so my father can fulfill his twisted, lifelong dream. No doubt, he’ll sleep like a baby tonight, while I’m haunted by the image of Evangeline’s bruised face.

  They weren’t supposed to hurt her. That wasn’t part of the plan. But the men working for my father are thugs. Mindless yet dangerous men following orders.

  I guess this makes me one of them.

  2

  Eva

  “No!”

  Two letters. One syllable. Such a powerful word.

  Too bad it doesn’t mean shit to my father.

  Dad sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is not up for debate, Evangeline. You were attacked the other night. You need protection.”

  I’m seconds away from stomping my foot. “I will not have an overgrown babysitter following me around!”

  “Yes, you will, because I say you will. You are my daughter and—”

  “And I am nineteen fucking-years-old.”

  He flinches. “Language.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do anymore!”

  “Watch me.” He looks to his assistant, Jerry, motioning for him to open the door.

  Because God forbid my father ever opens a damn door on his own.

  “This man doesn’t just wield a gun,” Dad says. “He knows how to fight. Plus, he grew up here so he knows the area well. He was the best candidate we could find on such short notice.”

  I roll my eyes. “Lucky me.”

  I should feel lucky. I come from a wealthy family. I live in a luxurious, residential skyscraper in the greatest city in the world. Cars, clothes, accessories, trips on a private jet. On the outside, it looks like I have it all. What more could I want, right? Money can buy almost anything.

  But it doesn’t buy happiness.

  It doesn’t buy love.

  It doesn’t diminish the pain or heartache.

  All money does is mask reality. That’s why rich people live in huge-ass houses. They build fortresses to shield themselves from the harsh truth, convincing themselves that they’re important; that they deserve what they have; that they’re worth a damn. They fake kindness, fake having humanity. Empty words and meaningless gestures. There’s no real love. No passion. They cling to money because it’s the only thing that makes them feel something.

  And I’m stuck here with them, a human amongst robots.

  Jerry returns with a large man towering behind him. Large might be an understatement. Muscles bulge under the snug, black T-shirt he’s wearing, and strong thighs strain against his dark jeans. He’s also wearing scuffed-up Timberland boots with the laces untied. He’s dressed nothing like the rich men in this room. My world is filled with suits and ties and shiny shoes. I’m surprised Dad even looked twice at this guy. He looks more like the type of man a father would want to protect his daughter from, not pay him an exorbitant amount of money to follow her around. Then again, maybe that’s why Dad hired him.

  He looks dangerous.

  Scruff peppers his jawline, which is defined and chiseled like his body. His dark hair is messy, and not the on-purpose messy that preppy dudes use pomade to achieve. No, this guy legit towel-dried his hair after his shower and called it good—if he even showered. He looks like the type that would roll out of bed, sniff the armpits of a T-shirt plucked from the floor, and decide it’s wearable. Everything about him screams zero fucks given.

  It’s a damn shame his aviators block his eyes from me. I’d bet they’re as dark as his eyebrows, which are dipped down, pinched together in a perma-scowl.

  My gaze follows him as he strides toward my father and engulfs his hand in a firm shake. He moves with a natural, physical dominance, the kind that commands your attention.

  He’s certainly got mine.

  The man is beautiful.

  Wait, no. What I meant to say was, “Are you fucking kidding me, Dad? You want this guy to follow me around all day?”

  Dad rubs his temples in small circles. “Language, Evangeline. And yes, I do want this guy to follow you around. Mr. Carter is going to protect you.”

  “I don’t need protection!”

  “Have you seen your face?”

  I roll my eyes. “It’s Manhattan. People get mugged all the time.”

  “You’re not people. You’re my daughter. And you didn’t get mugged. They took you, hurt you, and left you right outside our building. They had another purpose, and I don’t intend on giving them a second chance to find out what that is.”

  A frustrated growl rumbles in my throat. It’s no use arguing with him. I yank my leather jacket off the back of my chair, and stomp past my father like a toddler.

  He hired me a babysitter—I might as well act the part.

  “Where are you going?” Dad pushes to his feet.

  “What does it matter? I’ve got Thor here to watch over me now. I’ll be safe and fucking sound.” I don’t wait for him to respond as I spin around and barrel through the doorway.

  Heavy footsteps clunk behind me in the hall.

  I stop.

  He stops.

  I walk.

  He walks.

  I turn the corner.

  He turns the corner.

  I speed up.

  He speeds up.

  This is irritating me already.

  I make an abrupt about-face and slam into the body guard’s steel chest. “Do you have to walk so close to me?”

  “That’s kind of how my job works.” His voice is deep, matching his burly size.

  “Well, it’s obnoxious.”

  He pops an unapologetic shoulder.

  I prop my hands on my hips. “Look, you can go back to wherever it is you came from. You’re not needed here.”

  “I only take orders from your father.”

  “And I don’t. I’m a smart, capable girl, and I can take care of myself.”

  “If you’re so smart, then why’d you drive down a dark alley and try to confront the thugs who were following you?”

  I lift my chin, ignoring the fact that he’s right. “I had a bad night and I made a dumb decision. It won’t happen again.”

  “Lucky for you, I’ll be right by your side to make sure of that.”

  Lucky. Ha!

  Another growl makes its way up my throat.

  His thick lips twitch. “I’m starting to understand why you got that lion tattoo on your shoulder there.”

  “Oh, you haven’t even begun to understand me, Big Guy.” I step into his space and poke his chest with each word. “Now back. The fuck. Off.”

  My hair whips around my shoulders as I turn and storm toward the elevator. When I step inside, I expect him to follow me, but he doesn’t. He just stands there like a statue with that stoic expression on his ruggedly handsome face.

  Did I say ruggedly handsome?

  I meant annoying. Who wears sunglasses indoors?

  When I reach the lobby, he’s nowhere in sight. I slip my arms into my jacket sleeves with a smug smile and push through the revolving door, inhaling a lungful of New York air.

  It smells like hot garbage, but still. This is my city. My home.

  Was getting kidnapped the single most terrifying moment in my life? Yes. But I refuse to let that stop me.

  I won’t let fear control me.

&nb
sp; I force myself to walk the few blocks to Starbucks, clutching my pepper spray in my palm, ignoring the drumline in my chest. The muscles in my body tense each time someone gets too close—which happens literally every step of the way. New Yorkers don’t know the meaning of personal space. With over 1.6 billion people crammed onto an island that’s only 13.4 miles long, we’re bumbling into each other like mass-produced cattle.

  Only when I step inside the coffee shop do my shoulders lower and my breaths come easier. My best friend Deanna waves as I approach our usual table by the window, but her smile vanishes when her pale-blue eyes drop to the obvious purple splotch on my cheek.

  “What the hell happened to you?”

  I plop into the chair across from her. “I’m fine.”

  She leans forward, her blond curls bouncing around her shoulders. “You have a giant bruise on your face.”

  “I got jumped the other night. No big deal.”

  Her eyebrows hit her hairline. “No big deal? Eva, what happened?”

  I sigh, raking a hand through my hair. “Two dudes in a van tried to follow me home after I left you with Will at the bar. So, I drove down by the construction site and asked them why they were following me.”

  “Why would you do that? Are you crazy?” Her hand flies up, palm facing me. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. I already know the answer.”

  I stick my tongue out at her like a brat. “Anyway, they hopped out of the creeper van wearing ski masks and I tried to fight them off. One held me back while the other knocked me out cold, hence the bruise.”

  I rub my wrist under the table, still able to feel the unforgiving plastic ties that bound my limbs together. “Then they dumped me on the sidewalk near my building.”

  Deanna’s hand clamps over her mouth.

  I shrug and take a sip of the latte she ordered for me before I arrived, skipping over the part of the story when Dad insisted his doctor examine me using a rape kit. I just want to be thorough, he’d said. Little does he know, a rape kit is almost as invasive and humiliating as a rape itself.

  But I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. It sickened me to wake up, confused, unsure if my body was abused while I was unconscious.

  “Why would someone want to do that to you?” Deanna asks.

  Because people are sick. “No clue.”

  “Does your Dad know?”

  “Oh, he knows.” I’m about to tell her about his ridiculous idea to have me tailed by security when a large shadow casts over our table. Someone’s standing right outside the window, blocking the light from the setting sun.

  I don’t even have to look up to see who it is.

  I already know.

  I keep my eyes fixed on Deanna, hoping she won’t notice. “So, how are things with Will?”

  “Uh, do you know this guy?” Her eyes dart up to the window.

  “What guy?” I take another swig of my latte, feigning ignorance.

  She jerks her thumb to the left. “The giant man who’s staring at you like a serial killer through the window right now.”

  A low growl settles in my chest as I shove my chair back and stand. “Unfortunately, yes. I’ll be right back.”

  Outside, I whip around the corner of the building and give his shoulder a hard shove. He doesn’t budge—instead I stumble backwards, which only angers me more.

  “Why are you here?”

  He heaves a sigh as if I’m the oversized gnat that won’t go away. “I thought we went over this. I’m your bodyguard. Wherever you go, I go.”

  My jaw clenches. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

  “Did we not just have this conversation five minutes ago? Maybe you should go to the doctor and get your head checked.”

  My face heats and I move into his space until I’m craning my neck to look up at him. “Maybe the doctors should check your hearing instead, because I already told you that I don’t need you.”

  “Your face says otherwise.”

  “Bruises heal.”

  “Not if you’re dead.”

  We stand there, locked in a glaring match, until a bubbly voice perks up beside us. “Hi, I’m Deanna. I’m Eva’s best friend.”

  Big Guy doesn’t flinch, so I keep on staring a hole through his sunglasses when I say, “Go inside, Dee.”

  “I’d love to. Why don’t you both join me? What does your friend like to drink?”

  “He’s not my friend.”

  His head turns toward Deanna. “I’m Eva’s bodyguard.”

  Her jaw drops open. “Oh, wow. I didn’t know you had a bodyguard, Eva.”

  “I don’t. Dad thinks I need one after the other night.”

  “He’s right,” they say in unison.

  My hand smacks against my thigh as I look up at the sky and groan. “Not you too, Dee. I don’t need anybody to follow me around all day. Come on, this is crazy.”

  She scoffs. “Eva, you got attacked. You’re the daughter of one of the richest men in the city. Why is it so bad to have someone watching your back?” She leans toward me, twisting her lips to one side. “Especially someone who looks like him.”

  I don’t miss the smirk tick on Big Guy’s face.

  Cocky bastard.

  Rolling my eyes, I turn to face Deanna. “You know, just because you talk out of the side of your mouth doesn’t mean he can’t hear you.”

  She shrugs, giving him a sly smile.

  I step in front of her. “Stop that. Don’t smile at him. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

  “I am on your side,” she says. “That’s why I want you to be safe. So what, you have a body guard? I don’t see what the big deal is.”

  “Because it’s just another way for my father to control me!” I shout, scattering several nearby pigeons. “He thinks he can track my every move. He thinks he can tell me where to go, how to dress, what to do. I just want to be a normal girl, Dee. I want freedom. This is just one more thing he’s trying to take from me.”

  Deanna looks at me with pity reflecting in her eyes. “He just doesn’t want you to end up like Eric.”

  I hate when she looks at me that way, and even more so when she mentions Eric’s name. Plenty of people have it worse off than me in this world. I don’t deserve anyone’s pity.

  I snap my sardonic armor back into place as I glare up at the giant-sized thorn in my side. “You want to stand here looking like a psycho-stalker while I enjoy my latte? Knock yourself out.”

  I stomp back inside with Deanna in tow. I swipe our cups off the table we were previously sitting at and press my middle finger against the window in front of his face. Then I move to another table across the room, the one farthest from the windows.

  Deanna is just about frothing at the mouth when we drop into our seats. “Holy mother of God, that man is beautiful! You’re so lucky!”

  I groan and drop my forehead onto the table.

  Yeah, that’s me.

  Lucky.

  Continue reading Inevitable

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  Acknowledgments

  To Stacy, my beautiful wife, thank you for being so patient with me while I wrote this. It means the world to me when you get as excited as I do about my books. You always push me to believe in myself, and to keep going. Because of that—I do. I love you & appreciate you beyond words.

  TayTay! Thank you for making this cover look as good as it does. But more importantly, thank you for being my friend. I’ve spent many nights laughing at our wacked-out texts, and I always feel better after we have a vent session. I hope we never have to show our tits to a sugar daddy on Instagram, and I hope your children enjoy college after I changed my covers 472982 times—tell them I said you’re welcome (SJ: send erase the word send.)

  Mary, thank you for going back and forth with me every time I sent you snippets of this story. You’re always such an important part of my writing process because you kick my inner demon’s ass!

  Becca, your comments on each and every c
hapter are so helpful. I know quarantine life hasn’t been easy, but you made time for me anyway, and I appreciate the shit out of you!

  Chloe, your thoughtful insight on these characters helped make me a stronger writer and look at this story in a different light. I am so grateful for your help, and your friendship.

  Jasmine, Carrie, Jennifer, Janae, & Chelsea: I don’t have the right words to express how much I appreciate you allowing me to include your voices into this story. I hope you know that your words are going to help someone else out there who’s struggling. You ladies will forever be a part of my warrior tribe.

  Jenn Lockwood, thank you for polishing my book to perfection. I’m so happy I found you in the Insta world. You are awesome!

  To all the bloggers & bookstagrammers, I appreciate you more than you will ever know! It’s because of you that my books get read, and I am forever grateful.