by B. B. Hamel
“This isn’t the dark ages.”
He grins at me. “It basically is with a family like that.”
I sigh and look at the bar. “I’m afraid I fucked up.”
“How?” he asks softly.
I look up at him. “What do you mean?”
“Are you afraid you fucked up because you got her in trouble, or because you got yourself in trouble?”
I blink. “Because I got her in trouble,” I say. “Shit, it didn’t even occur to me that they might be unhappy with me.”
“Good,” he says, smiling a little.
“Why?”
“Means you actually like this girl.”
I nod slowly. “Guess I do.”
“Come on,” he says, “last drink is on me.”
I grin and we start talking about business, but I still have Sadie on my mind as we finish that last drink.
It’s around one in the morning when we finally leave. Chuck gets in his car and heads home, and I have my driver take me back to my apartment. I could just go into the office and sleep there, but I want to shower in the morning and we’re not far from my place.
The driver drops me off and I tip him before heading upstairs. My apartment is like my second home. I spend a lot of time in the office, mostly because I have everything there that I could need. But it’s still nice to have a home that isn’t in the middle of my job.
I take the elevator to the top and step off. I pause outside of my door, cocking my head.
It’s slightly ajar. I don’t remember leaving it open. I frown a little bit and push it open. Maybe one of the people that I hire stopped by, maybe the cook is here or one of the cleaning people. They know I keep weird hours and maybe they figured they’d get an early start or something.
But of course that’s a stupid thought, and it hits me as soon as I’m in my apartment. All of the lights are on, which I know I definitely didn’t do. Who the hell would go to their job at one in the morning, unless they were up to no good?
I pause in my hallway. “Hello?” I call out.
The answer comes back instantly. “In the living room.”
A chill runs down my spine. I don’t recognize that voice. I step toward the table in my entrance way and reach for the drawer. I keep a small gun in there, just a little .22 caliber thing, but it’ll be enough.
“Don’t bother with the gun,” the voice calls out. “I checked already. It’s empty.”
I reach into the drawer, heart hammering, and pick it up. I pull out the magazine and sure enough, it’s empty. Cursing under my breath, I put it back into the drawer and walk slowly toward my living room.
“Who are you?” I call out. “And what do you want?”
“No need to be nervous, Mr. Waller,” the man says. “I’m not here to rob you.”
I relax slightly at the way he speaks to me. I step into the living room and spot the man standing near the wall-sized windows, looking out over the city. He turns toward me, a smile on his face.
He’s in his late forties, maybe ten years older than me. He wears a dark suit, a dark tie, and a white shirt. His hair is thinning and balding in the back, but his eyes are sharp, and he looks like he’s in good shape. He has a square jaw and he clearly works out, though he’s a couple inches shorter than me. If I didn’t now any better, I’d think I could take him. But he doesn’t look like a normal person. I can see it in the way he looks at me.
Plus, normal people don’t break into apartments in the middle of the night just for a chat.
“Who are you?” I ask him again, standing in the entranceway.
He smiles at me and raises his hands, palms out. “My name is Silas,” he says. “I work for the Tillmans. I’m just here to talk.”
I frown at him, but relax slightly. If the Tillmans sent him, that means he’s probably not here to rob and kill me.
But he might be here for something much worse.
“Do you want something?” I ask him.
He smiles slightly. “Interesting. I break into your apartment and you ask if I want something.”
I shrug, playing it cool, and walk to the kitchen. “Might as well be polite. Whisky?”
He nods. “Okay then.”
I pour two glasses and hand him one. I sip mine and eye him. We stand on either side of the kitchen island.
“Well, you probably want to know why I’m here.”
I nod once. “I’d like that.”
“It’s late, so I’ll try and be brief. You seem reasonable, Mr. Waller.”
“Call me Gavin.”
“Okay, Gavin.” Silas puts his drink down on the counter and looks at me, a little smile on his face. “Truth is, Mr. Tillman is very angry about you seeing his daughter behind his back.”
I clench my jaw slightly. “Is she okay?”
Silas smiles a little wider. “She’s fine, as far as I know. Curious that you’d ask.”
“I know your employer can be… harsh.”
“Harsh. Good word.” Silas takes another sip of his whisky. “I’m here to give you a simple message, Gavin. It’s the kind of message that I’m often hired to give, and I really, really hate giving it more than once. Are you ready?”
“Get on with it,” I say, staring at him, anger rising in my throat like bile.
“Stay away from Sadie Tillman. It’s that simple. Stay away from her, and everything will be just fine.”
I stare at his smiling face and I can hear the threat there, implicit behind his words.
“And if I don’t, everything won’t,” I say.
Silas just shrugs and smiles, not responding.
“Do you always do Tillman’s dirty work?” I ask him.
“I’ve been in his employ for many years,” he admits. “Though I have other clients, of course.” He puts his drink down and steps away from the counter. “I’m going to leave now, Gavin.”
“Tell your boss that I’m not interested in his threats.”
Silas nods. “I suspected you’d say that. Guys like you aren’t easy to intimidate. You’re from the west side, right?”
I hesitate a second. “Right,” I say.
“I know lots of guys from there. I grew up there myself. I know you’re used to big thugs trying to push everyone around. But listen, Gavin, and listen closely. I don’t like giving this message more than once. This has been a pleasant interaction. Let’s not have an unpleasant one.” He smiles one last time before turning and walking out.
I watch him go and I don’t say a word. Adrenaline courses through my veins and anger clutches at my throat. I hear Silas disappear down the hallway, open my door, and shut it again. I clench my glass and end up tossing back the rest of the whisky in one smooth motion.
I’d be a liar if I tried to pretend like it doesn’t freak me the fuck out that Silas broke into my apartment so easily. He could have done anything to me. Fortunately, he just wanted to threaten me, but it could have been much worse. I wasn’t prepared for that, not at all.
But I’m going to be prepared. I believe him when he says that our next meeting will be much less pleasant, and I’m going to be ready for that.
Because I’m not backing off Sadie. Those Tillman fucks think they can control her and push me around, but I’m not the kind of man that can be fucked with. When I want something, I get it, and I want Sadie.
I want to be her Daddy. I want to dominate her, control her, make her feel things she’s never dreamed of.
Her family isn’t going to stand in my way.
8
Sadie
I expected to get screamed at. I expected my father and my brothers to be there, waiting for me, ready to tell me how I’m disappointing them. Well, maybe not Peter, but definitely Michael.
Instead, the apartment was quiet. Reginald told me good night and then left me there. Nobody yelled, nobody scolded, nothing.
So I went to bed, still thinking about Gavin.
The moment in the bathroom kept coming back to me. It was a potential turning point for me, but
I was afraid. I was too scared to really turn away from my old life and embrace something new. If I had slept with him in there, I would be a totally new woman.
Still, making out with him in a stall and letting him touch me like that is something. I’ve never done something like that before, and never imagined I would, not before Gavin. He makes me want to live, to really live. He makes me want to be something more than whatever my family wants me to be.
The next morning, I’m up early. I’m a little tired, but I’m going to be brave. I’m going to face my family and the consequences no matter what.
I put on clothes, brush my teeth, and steady myself before heading downstairs for breakfast. My brothers are there and so are both my parents. My father glances up from his paper when I come into the room.
“You slept late,” he comments.
I pause. “I guess so,” I say. I expect him to start yelling any minute.
But everyone acts normal. Mother doesn’t look up at me. Peter is busy on his phone. Michael is reading the paper. Nobody is staring at me. Father doesn’t even look angry.
He turns back to his paper. I grab a plate and load it up with the usual before taking my seat. I look around, totally confused, but everyone seems absolutely normal. It feels like nothing at all happened, but of course father knows, and of course mother does, too.
Maybe they’re just letting me get away with it. Or maybe their punishment is even worse than I could guess.
I dig in, wanting to get the hell out of there as fast as possible. I finish my meal as fast as possible, wanting to get back into my room so that I can text Gavin. As soon as I finish, though, my father puts down his paper and clears his throat.
“Peter, Michael, can you excuse us for a second?”
Peter looks up, surprised. “Huh? I’m not finished.”
“Peter,” mother says. “Please. We need to talk to your sister.”
My face turns red. This is the moment I was dreading. I really thought I could get away with it, but apparently not.
Michael stands and gives me a little look. I can’t understand it. I don’t know if he knows what I’m in trouble for, or if he’s just always something of an ass. Peter gives me a little smile and reluctantly leaves. He definitely doesn’t know, at least.
Mother and father stare at me once my brothers are gone. My father doesn’t look angry, but he’s not smiling either. Mother just looks tired.
“You’re not a child anymore,” father says finally. “You’re becoming an adult, slowly but surely, no matter what we want. And I understand you’re going to want some measure of freedom.”
I narrow my eyes at my father. “This isn’t about that.”
“Let your father finish,” mother steps in suddenly, sounding angry.
Father frowns. “Listen, Sadie. I’m not an unreasonable man. I understand you want to live your life and enjoy yourself. But honestly, Gavin Waller is an embarrassment.”
“He isn’t,” I say.
“Watch it,” mother says.
“Sadie,” father cuts in. “I’m offering you a chance here. A clean slate. No punishments for sneaking off with that low-class man last night, but in exchange, you’ll do something for me.”
I pause, a little surprised. I expected him to lose his temper and to yell at me, but he’s being surprisingly calm about this, almost reasonable.
“What?” I ask him, skeptical.
“Go out on a date with a proper match,” he says. “Milo’s parents have already agreed. He’ll meet with you tomorrow night for dinner.”
My eyes widen slightly. I know my parents want me to marry Milo and unite our families, but I had no clue they’d take it this far.
“I can’t,” I say.
“You will,” mother says, leaning toward me. “I’m so tired of you being such a little brat—“
“Regina,” my father says, stopping her. “Please.” He turns to me again, his face passive. “If you refuse to see Milo, that’s your choice, but we will no longer support you.”
I gape at him. “What does that mean?”
“Banishment,” mother says angrily.
Father sighs. “Nothing so dramatic. We’ll send you to your cousin’s in upstate New York where you’ll meet with tutors for a few months. You’ll be comfortable there.”
“And far away from that man,” mother says.
I stare at the two of them. “I’m not a child,” I say softly.
“You’re right,” father agrees. “You’re not. But you rely on us for everything you have. And if you want to continue living your accustomed lifestyle, you will obey.”
I frown down at my plate, not able to meet my father’s gaze.
I don’t want to go out with Milo. He’s not the worst person in the world, but I’m just not interested in him. Frankly, he’s boring, and I know I’ll never marry him. Or at least I don’t want to ever marry him. Milo doesn’t make me feel even half as good as Gavin does.
But I know that my parents can banish me to New York if they want. They can take everything I have away and make my life very, very difficult. Nobody will help me, either, because of how powerful my father is. I know he’s going easy on me right now, but things can be very, very bad.
When I was a little girl, I snuck into my father’s office. It was off-limits back then, for good reason. I was stupid and silly, and I ended up breaking an antique model ship, one of my father’s favorites. He locked me in the basement for a week, feeding me once a day, before letting me out. Nobody said a word, but everyone knew what he had done. The staff all knew, my brothers both knew, and my mother knew. But nobody stopped him and nobody said a word.
My brothers have gotten it just as bad in the past. My father beat my brother Peter bloody once. Michael was forced to stand out on the roof in the rain for three hours in nothing but his underwear. I can only guess what my mother has been through.
So when my father threatens me, I take him seriously. The money and the clothes and the comfort, that stuff doesn’t really motivate me. Of course, I like that stuff, and I want to be comfortable, but I don’t need that stuff. I want to get out from under my father’s control.
But I can’t. Although he threatened to take things away from me, I know he’ll do worse.
“Yes, father,” I whisper, and I hate myself for it.
He smiles and my mother nods, looking smug. “Very good,” he says. “Tomorrow night. Until then, Thomas will be taking your laptop and your cellphone.”
I don’t protest, I simply nod my head and accept it.
“May I be excused?” I ask him.
“Yes,” he says. “Thomas is already in your room, cleaning it out.”
I stand and leave without another word. I hurry back to my room, heart beating fast in my chest.
Thomas gives me a sad look as I come into my room. He has a small box, and in it he has piled every device I could possibly use to contact the outside world. He leaves my room wordlessly, and doesn’t meet my gaze.
I shut my door quietly before retreating into my closet.
My fucking father. I finally let the anger that I’ve been suppressing flow through me as soon as I’m in my nook. I want to kill him, scream at him, hurt him as badly as he hurts me. But I can’t do anything. I’m powerless here, and I can’t even contact Gavin to explain. He’s going to wonder where I’ve gone and maybe think that I don’t want to see him anymore.
I can handle a dinner with Milo. That’s not a big deal. I can get through it and pretend like I give a shit about any of it. But what I can’t handle is Gavin thinking I don’t want him anymore.
Because I do. All of this is making me want him even more. Gavin is the first person to let me live the life that I want. He seems to care more about making me happy and making me feel good than getting whatever he wants out of me. He makes everything feel better.
It’s just one dinner, I tell myself. Then I’ll get my phone back and I’ll tell Gavin the truth about what’s happening. He’ll understa
nd.
It’s just one dinner.
Milo smiles at me as he spreads his napkin in his lap. I smile back, trying to make the best of this situation, but inwardly dreading every single moment.
“What do you think of the wine?” he asks me.
I shrug a little and sip it again. “Pretty good.”
He grins. “Pretty good? Please, this is some of the finest wine I’ve ever tasted. A lovely French vintage, I think, from the Somme region.”
I frown a little bit. “Doesn’t it say that on the bottle?”
He pauses. “Well, of course, but I can taste it in the grapes.”
“Right.”
He starts in on a little speech about how each different vintage comes out slightly different due to water levels and blah, blah, blah. I tune him out pretty quickly, idly playing with my fork, smiling and nodding only when required, which isn’t often.
The differences between this date and my date with Gavin couldn’t be more obvious. Gavin took me to a personal spot, a place he clearly loved and cared for, while Milo brought me to the most expensive restaurant he could. It’s a lovely place, and I’m sure the food is great, just like the wine is wonderful, but it feels cold. I can’t really explain it. Luberto’s was warm and inviting and maybe it wasn’t fine dining, but it was family style and it was delicious.
I sigh to myself and glance down at the table. Milo doesn’t seem to notice that I’m not really listening, or maybe he just doesn’t care. Maybe he thinks that having money and knowledge about things like wine, plus a strong family connection, makes him important and special.
Well, it doesn’t. It makes him just like all of the other boys I know: dull and entitled.
The waiter comes after a few minutes. He asks if we’re ready, and Milo doesn’t hesitate.
“Yes, we’ll start with the anchovy spread and the rustic bread, please. The lady will have the halibut and I will have the risotto.”
I blink, a little surprised. I wasn’t in the mood for fish. I was going to order the biggest, juiciest steak on this damn menu and at least try to enjoy that. But by the time I come to my senses, the waiter is already gone.
