OWNED: A Dark Mystery Romance (LOVE IS WAR Book 4)

by Shayne Ford

  I pause, my lungs empty of air.

  I tip my gaze down when I hear his voice.

  “Image?”

  I tip my gaze up, his eyebrows arching in surprise.

  “Yes... The few snapshots that I took of you and Jacqueline last Friday. Isn’t that why you made a point out of getting all cozy and tender with her. So that I could see you?”

  I expect to see a smile on his face, but he remains expressionless.

  “You sent him more than that.”

  My lips part in surprise.

  Slowly, he tips chin down.

  “What...? What did I send him?”

  He stays quiet.

  “How do you know?” I ask.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Breathless, I search for answers in his eyes. I shouldn’t be surprised that he knows. He always does.

  What makes me tremble inside is the grim possibility that I contributed to her demise in ways even more significant than I thought.

  “What did I send him?” I breathe out again, getting weak in my knees, nearing the verge of collapsing.

  He observes me for a moment.

  “Something you got from me a while ago.”

  12

  TESS

  The reality shuts down for me right there and then, my memory pulling up that particular moment in time.

  The early morning hours. I couldn’t sleep a wink that night. I tossed and turned, shooting my eyes to his windows from time to time.

  In the wee hours of the night, I was still pondering whether I should be the harbinger of truth or not. Whether I should warn Stephan Leon or not. Whether I should return the favor to Sebastien for bringing so much truth into my life and basically, crumbling it.

  I felt sick. Physically sick. I couldn’t sleep, and I couldn’t eat. Coffee was out of the question as I was already buzzing with angry, repetitive thoughts.

  It didn’t help a bit that the party was still unfolding in his home. That I was getting glimpses of him and Jacqueline. That I imagined their life unfolding from that point on without the slightest hitch. Not haunted by the shadows of the past, and not tarnished by the regret that they had changed the lives of so many people.

  I was one of those people, and I was given the possibility to do something about it, so I did.

  I knew it was a bad idea... But I did it anyway.

  I couldn’t stand watching the power couple swirling on the dance floor in their majestic house, oblivious to all the drama that they had created, and doing nothing.

  I thought that a fair warning would help Stephan. I thought that painting Jacqueline for who she was–– an unscrupulous, manipulative liar, would bring the sham to an end.

  I thought that making her accountable would force Sebastien to face the truth.

  She was not honest with him. Or Stephan. She played them for her gain without caring for anyone else.

  I thought about all those things, but it never crossed my mind that I would push her to her end.

  As the images of that early morning flash in front of my eyes, I see myself hunched over the computer, selecting the pictures that I wanted to burn into that memory stick. Mindlessly, I was highlighting and dragging.

  There were the few pictures I took the night before and transferred to the folder where I saved his clips. The ones he sent me. The ones I should’ve gotten rid off a while ago, but couldn’t. Had I done that, I wouldn’t have had them on that memory stick. Had I done that, I wouldn’t have created the disaster. I never thought that my message would have the power to end lives.

  No...

  My hand flies to my mouth.

  I see it clearly. I know exactly what I sent.

  “No... I didn’t...” I say, looking at him, hoping for a confirmation that I’m wrong.

  Nothing on his face kills my suspicion.

  Nothing.

  He knows what I know. And more so, he knows how I feel, and for the rest of our lives, this little detail will bind us in ways I’ve never imagined. He knows my darkest secret, and this type of bind is stronger than love or even hate, and it’s indestructible in a sense because it’s sealed by death.

  I should’ve known a long time ago when my life was still mine or at least I thought that it was. When I was wondering if there was a safe exit from this story. When I was curious if and how this would end.

  I should’ve known that he leaves nothing to chance and this twist of the story has the power to keep us tangled forever.

  Desperation sweeps through me, followed by a tide of anger as I suddenly realize that none of this would’ve happened had he not made me part of his life. Had he not sent me those clips with him and her, to begin with.

  He keeps his chin down, his eyes on me.

  Studying me.

  “I’m not the only one responsible for this,” I mutter as I see my fate sealed in his gaze.

  He stays silent for a moment before he speaks.

  “No one is responsible.”

  My eyebrows flick up, my mouth agape.

  “What?”

  He slowly shakes his head.

  I close the little space between us with a step.

  “She’s in a fucking grave, Sebastien,” I snarl, swinging my arm and pointing at the patch of dirt covered with flowers. “Someone is responsible for that. She didn’t get in by herself.”

  He opens his mouth to speak.

  “Don’t even try,” I cut him off before he has the chance to say a word. “Stephan was the one who put his hands on her, but he is not the only one responsible. And I would’ve never done that stupid thing, had you not driven me crazy. Had you not dragged me into that dudgeon of darkness. Had you not ripped my heart out and then let me bleed. You played with me and pulled my strings making me dance like a puppet. To say that you sent me mixed messages is an understatement. You showed me two different men. I fall for one so badly I couldn’t fight the other one. You lured me with one side of you and then used me with the other, showing no remorse. You broke my will and made me lose my mind. What sane person would do that?” I shout, his patience running thin.

  He grabs me with both hands and tosses me against the tree. My purse falls to the ground.

  “No one is responsible, Tess. You don’t fucking know her. You have no idea what was going on between them. And you know nothing about him as well.”

  “And that was the fucking problem,” I bark, pushing him back. “I didn’t know them, but you did. That’s why the plan was perfect. All I wanted was to send him a warning and to stop her, somehow. I knew she was lying to him as much as she was fooling you, and although I couldn’t vouch for your reasons and why you let yourself get trapped by her, I knew her intentions. She didn’t care for any of you, yet she wanted both of you. She made all kinds of promises to him, and I suspect she did the same to you. You can’t possibly imagine how hurt I was, or maybe you did. That’s why you cut me so deep, to get me to the point where I couldn’t stand that pain and do something about it, anything that could pull her out of your life. That’s why you made me fall for you. Took me to that place, played hot and cold with me after that, made me guess, suspect... What the fuck? You fucked with my mind while all you wanted was to set her a trap. You didn’t feel a damn thing for me. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. That’s why it was so easy for you. And that’s why you had no problem displaying your affection for her–– if that’s what it was, in fact. You knew full well that I’d have my eyes glued to that window. The thing is, now I can no longer tell. You fucked me up so badly, I can’t read anything inside you. You told me nothing about your life, while you had the privilege to know everything about mine. You said I’d get to know it someday. That day never came. I don’t know why you needed her out of your life or me in, for that matter. I can’t even fathom what your reasons are. That’s why to me you’re nothing but a liar and a criminal. Even if you didn’t put a finger on her, you still had something to do with her death. And even if I wasn’t in that room, I’m still an accomplice.
And honestly, I don’t know what to do with all of this right now, but I’m tempted to just go to the police. Do the right thing for once, and remove all that guilt from my heart,” I blurt out.

  He seems taken aback for a moment, frustration reading on his face.

  “You can’t change a damn thing if you go,” he barks at me, his voice emotionless.

  I stay silent.

  “You can’t bring her back and you can’t undo everything that has been done to me or you,” he says.

  “To you??” I scoff.

  “Yes, to me,” he says, his glare charring my face. “I didn’t want her to end like this, and I never thought that she would, but she played a role in meeting her fate as well. You know nothing about her. You think she was bad, but what you don’t know is that she had plenty of options. She could’ve gotten a divorce. She could’ve married Stephan Leon. She could’ve even married Allan Sandoval, had she wanted to.”

  The blood draws from my face.

  He pauses for a split second before he continues.

  “But she didn’t do it, and you know why? She didn’t want to. In fact, the only reason she broke up with your husband after I exposed their affair was to make sure that she keeps you away from me. Why would she do that if you didn’t matter to me?”

  I slacken against the tree.

  “Tell me. Why would she do it?” he throws at me again.

  A world collapses inside me.

  “Even if you’re right, I still can’t believe you. No one does something like that if they care about other people.”

  “I didn’t care about her. I couldn’t. She made it impossible. Every single damn day. But I cared about you.”

  “How?” I burst out, my eyes and voice getting flooded with tears. “How?’ I ask again as he looks down, his fingers running through his hair.

  Even now, after this ordeal, he cannot show me any trust.

  “If what you say it’s true, you must’ve known what I was doing Friday night. You probably had an idea where I was going the next day, in the afternoon. You knew all that, and yet, you did nothing to stop me,” I say.

  “I didn’t know that it would end like that,” he says seriously, his gaze tilting up.

  I lock eyes with him, dumbfounded, a nervous chuckle dancing on my lips.

  13

  TESS

  “No one could’ve predicted what happened that night,” he says again.

  “Are you telling me that? And do you expect me to believe you?”

  His eyes glimmer in the dimness.

  I push off the trunk of the tree and collect my purse before I close the gap between us and bring my hand to the lapel of his jacket.

  I start talking in a quiet voice.

  “Everything that happened since I’ve met you ties into something else. Everything. The way we met, the ending of my marriage, the fact that I live across from your house. And last but not least, the fact that I gave that piece of information to Stephan. I have a hard time to believe that it was a mere accident and you had no idea that something bad was bound to happen.”

  “It’s the truth,” he says with a silent voice as well.

  My gaze tips down to his lips as I gently brush the fabric of his jacket.

  “I don’t know if I meant something to you... If anything,” I mutter, lifting my gaze. “Even if I did, it’s all gone now. Whatever we felt for each other has been poisoned and now reeks of death. I can’t trust you, and you can’t trust me either, and even if you know my life, you can no longer tell what lies in my heart or goes through my mind. You know nothing about me now, and in a sense, we are finally even. Now, you know how it feels to be me. To love someone you know nothing about. To fall for someone who can hurt you so much and you can't do a damn thing about it.”

  With that, I step away from him when I hear his voice again.

  “It wasn’t me in that clip.”

  I turn to stone, my feet pinned to the ground.

  Slowly, I pivot to him.

  “What...?”

  His eyes dive into mine.

  “What do you mean it wasn’t you?” I ask.

  My voice is shaky. Broken.

  “You attached a couple of clips by mistake.”

  My heart drops.

  “A couple??”

  He tips his chin down while I walk back to him.

  “What clips?” I ask no longer sure of anything.

  “It was the recording of your husband and her. And then...”

  I have a hard time standing.

  I look at him, breathless, his gaze floating over my face.

  “Yes...?” I murmur.

  “And then you added the clip of her submitting to a man.”

  “You and her,” I speak in a trance.

  “The man in that clip wasn’t me.”

  My jaw hits the ground.

  I open and close my mouth a few times.

  “What are you talking about? You sent me several bits with you and her to make me jealous.”

  He shakes his head.

  “I’ve never sent you clips with her and me. There are no clips of her and me. There never were.”

  I study his face bewildered.

  “Who was the man in those clips then ?”

  He reads my expression for a moment.

  “It was him... Stephan.”

  My hand goes to my mouth again.

  “Oh, my God... I can’t believe this.”

  A storm of emotions breaks through me. It’s bad, so bad. But even worse now that I understand the irony. That I feel the iron fist of fate.

  My heart breaks.

  But how is that even possible?

  How could he possibly have those clips? He sent them months back, way before she hooked up with Allan.

  “She’s been with him for how long?” I ask, grappling to make sense.

  “They started to see each other before she met your husband.”

  I feel as if I’m about to faint, so I prop myself against the tree.

  My gaze trails down, my eyes heavy with tears. I can see now how this whole story unfolded, and how it swept everything in its path.

  Hunched, I start to sob.

  He comes closer to me. Through a curtain of tears, I can see his sleek, expensive shoes.

  “Why didn’t you stop them, Sebastien?” I ask, my voice tattered. “None of this would’ve happened.”

  The evening gets back to me with the sound of crickets and the soft rapping of the rain, but not with his voice.

  Silent, he watches me cry.

  My purse slides from my hand as I spring up and sink my fists into his chest.

  “Why didn’t you stop them??” I snarl as I charge at him again, my voice spearing through the fabric of the night, the echo floating over the cemetery.

  He comes back to me, with the weight of his body and the power of his muscles, crushing me against the tree.

  I squirm and scream hysterical against his touch as he secures me with his arm, and silence me with his hand.

  “Because it wasn’t that simple,” he growls against my temple while I barely breathe against his palm. “Stopping them would have put everything at risk. I needed her to do what she did so that I could free myself from her. Stop feeling sorry for her or everybody else. No one was innocent in this story. No one. They were all adults making adult decisions. And they were all responsible for what happened to them as well.”

  “Says every criminal,” I mumble beneath his touch.

  His hand cuffs my neck while his body presses into mine. I grab his arms, feeling as if I’m sinking into the ground.

  “I’m not a criminal,” he says against my lips, his hand no longer between us, only the hot breath that we share.

  “I’m not,” he says with a softer voice, his fingers splaying over my face, getting drenched in my tears. His thumb sweeping my lips, sending electric waves through my bones.

  The cushion of his lips gently touches mine while my nails sink into the fabric of his s
uit jacket. Torn, I’m struggling with a mountain of conflicting feelings, caught between the love and hate I feel for him.

  Given the chance, I would kill him with my bare hands. And just as fast, I would love him with the same hands.

  His lips press against mine, my warm tears getting crushed between us. I close my eyes and allow myself to feel him. His touch. His fingers fanned over my face. His thumb brushing my jawline. His arm snaking around my waist. His chest pressed against me.

  He buries me in his embrace, the slight tension in his arms making my insides melt.

  I’m right there, walking the path of surrender.

  One part of me wants to pull away from him while the other is seconds away from making a compromise.

  Ready to settle for this.

  Content to take whatever he’s willing to give me.

  The memory of an old conversation comes back to me that very second, the sound of my voice echoing in my ears. The very same words were part of a dialogue with him.

  And then I hear his response.

  ‘Never forget that.’

  He knew.

  He knew back then. That’s why none of this is possible.

  If before he walked me through a slice of heaven, now he’d take me straight to hell.

  A hell made of secrets, lies, and distrust. A hell made of guilt and flashbacks, but also made of pleasure, so twisted and so addictive, precisely because it’s tainted.

  And yet, I taste this moment.