“I can see it on your face.”
“What you see is perception. You’ve given me something to work with.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to,” he said gently. “Because that’s my job.”
CHAPTER 22
DOMINIC NEVER DID bring me food.
With no way of judging time, I could only guess it was midnight. Curled up in a ball on the bed, I sobbed into my pillow. Cameron had years of training to hide his reaction to a client when they blurted out their despicable truth. His stone-faced expression gave nothing away.
Only his desire to leave.
I couldn’t blame him. I’d feigned that I was a well-balanced woman who belonged in his circle of friends. Deserved to date his best friend even. But I was a weak and shameful girl. I didn’t belong here. Didn’t belong anywhere.
The only comfort came from dipping into that book he’d given me about Goddesses and hoping that one day I too might find something beautiful inside.
The door handle turned. Cameron’s silhouette showed in the shadowy darkness.
I raised myself up and slid off the bed, making my way around to see him. Needing to see he’d forgiven me. Or perhaps a sign of understanding.
He entered.
A sharp pang of fear. “What is that?”
“A sandwich,” he said, holding out the plate. “Peanut butter and jelly.”
“Don’t,” I said, realizing. “I’m begging you.”
“One final step, Mia.” He closed the door. “Come here.”
Nearing him, I took the plate.
Tears sprung into my eyes and my sobs came hard and fast. “Please, Cameron, Sir.”
“Lead the way.” He gestured.
“I can’t.”
“Every step of the way, I am with you. Just as I promised.”
Dazed, and with all power gone, I headed towards the bathroom door. Once inside, I waited for him.
Cameron wandered in behind me, his hands casually in his pockets, those round rimmed glasses making him look superior. Truth hinged on his ability to dare to push further.
Survival hinged on my ability to push back.
Staring down at the white bread and sticky spread within, I couldn’t understand how he knew. Sliding down the wall, I rested the plate on my lap. Despite this gnawing hunger, no way was I eating this.
It’s a coincidence, my intuition reassured me, he doesn’t know. Can’t know.
Cameron was barefoot too, having kicked off his shoes before following me in. He slid down the wall opposite, mirroring what I’d just done.
“Take a bite,” he said.
It tasted better than expected and the sweet and salty texture melted on my tongue. This sandwich had been my meal on that day.
That awful day.
I awoke from this trance he had me in. “But how?” Then I realized. “Do you know someone in Charlotte?”
“Ethan went for me.”
I swallowed this awful stickiness. “You sent him?”
“He volunteered. We had dinner tonight to talk about what he found.” He gestured to the bread. “At least it isn’t moldy this time.”
My eyes shot up to meet his. “But how…”
“White bread was the only food in the house. Other than peanut butter and jelly.” He gave the deepest sigh. “At 10AM that morning you left school. You walked home and arrived soon after 11AM.”
“I don’t understand?”
“School records,” he said flatly. “You argued with your mother soon after, according to the neighbors.”
“Ethan went to my old house?”
“Yes.”
My lips trembled. “The same people still live there?”
“Same neighbors, yes. Ethan also visited the sheriff’s office. He was very obliging.”
All of it had been reported, documented, yet the core of the secret was never to be aired.
Never.
I took comfort in that.
“May I continue?” he said.
The room closed in.
“After the long walk home, you were hungry.” He gestured to my plate. “Your mom made you a sandwich. Peanut butter and jelly.”
“How did you know?”
“Sheriff Bradshaw documented what was found in the kitchen.”
I was amazed those records still existed.
“Your mom’s dealer was scheduled to come to the house before twelve,” said Cameron. “He always came on a Thursday.”
“The neighbors told you that?”
He shrugged.
“They knew he was a dealer?” I said.
“No. Your mom never went out and there was only one visitor to the house, apparently. Every Thursday, like clockwork. Same time your neighbors cut their lawn. Your mother had to get her drugs somehow. I deduced that’s who he was. You confirmed it.”
I made a mental note to stop giving so much away.
“You argued with her around 11:30 AM,” he continued. “Apparently you were pretty loud. Very agitated. Understandably, I might add. You were angry with your mom. Probably trying to talk her out of taking her next hit?”
That was true.
Nosy fucking neighbors.
“You went silent around 11:50AM.” He gestured for me to take another bite. “According to the police report. Your mom had filled a prescription, which you collected for her from the pharmacy the night before. Ambien. Twenty-five pills started off in that bottle. Yet forensics only found twenty-three. Only one faint dose level was found in her system upon post mortem. She’d metabolized it from the night before. Which meant someone else also took one.”
“I didn’t.”
“Actually, you did,” he said. “In the kitchen they also found two silver spoons with what turned out to be the residue of Ambien. There’s only one reason to crush a tablet. Either it’s because it’s too big or because you want to slip it into someone’s food.”
I blinked at him, trying to keep up.
“Your mom made your sandwich that day because she wanted you quiet. She dosed your sandwich.”
“What?”
“Ambien will not only send you to sleep, it places your brain into a haze afterward. The common side effect is forgetfulness.”
My lips trembled and I dreaded what might come next. The big reveal, the terrible truth proving my guilt. “I’m willing to give Dr. Raul another try,” I said. “If she’ll have me.”
“You woke up in the bathroom,” he said. “But not from sleep. You’d taken a hit of cocaine.”
“Cameron, please—”
“Allow me,” he said calmly. “When you finally came around, you saw the discarded needle by your side.”
The very needle the police had found because I’d failed to hide it in time. Tears stung my eyes. Shame seeped back and forced me to look away and not see his disgust.
“What happened next?” he said softly.
“She was dead.”
“You found her on the floor of the living room?”
“I called 911 and hurried to clean her up,” I said. “I didn’t want them to find her like that.”
“At fourteen years of age, you’re not taught how to resuscitate.”
I wiped away another tear, trying to hold back on this tidal wave of emotion causing my throat to tighten.
“The paramedics could see she’d been gone for a while, Mia. Even if you had attempted to resuscitate your mom, you couldn’t have brought her back.”
“Had I not been high,” I snapped, “I might have stopped her from taking it.”
“And you were very high,” he said. “That’s why you did your homework after the police arrived. So they wouldn’t look into your eyes and see your pupils.”
Slapping my hand to my mouth, I suppressed a sob.
“Nevertheless they took you to the hospital,” he said. “And a forensic nurse examined you. All part of the process of assessing a crime scene.”
The emergency room had been busy
that night. The nurses had been kind enough though, patient, and despite hurrying around me they’d given me the courtesy I didn’t deserve.
Cameron stretched out his long legs. “In the forensic nurse’s report, she noted the puncture wound in the crux of your arm. She assumed it was from where labs had been drawn. But labs weren’t drawn until twenty minutes later, which proved the needle had punctured prior to your arrival. The forensic nurse missed it. Especially as you were the one who told her it was from where you’d had blood drawn. You were savvy at fourteen, but you didn’t do yourself any favors.” He reached into his upper breast pocket and held up a syringe. “Recognize this? It’s a ten cc and was found in the bathroom.” He leaned forward and rested the needle beside me. “Show me.”
I reached for the needle. Using the precision with which I’d drawn it up that day, a skill learned from watching my mother no doubt, I pretended to flick out the bubbles and then hovered the needlepoint close to the crux of my left arm.
“How many times had you shot yourself up before that day?” he asked.
“It was the first time,” I admitted.
“Interesting. You’ve never been inclined to use drugs since?”
“Never.” I wiped my runny nose with the back of my hand and, relenting to his cruel and pointless request, hovered the needle close to my arm.
“No, no,” he said. “The puncture wound was in the right arm.”
I took the syringe in my other hand and angled the needlepoint at the crux of my right arm. It felt awkward and I fumbled to position my fingers on the injector. It really didn’t make sense and I wanted him to know that. “But I’m right handed.”
The shockwave hit me. If this was what it felt like to drown, I now knew it. The memory of that day cleared like rain clearing fog.
That stale breath. That scarred face. That snake tattoo. “It will make you feel better,” he’d soothed with his soft southern drawl. An uncompromising strength. “Take your medicine now.” The sting of a needle.
My tears streamed, and my throat constricted against words that had never been spoken. I’d been too drowsy to protest. Too weak to shove him away.
Cameron gave a nod, his expression kind. “It was the Ambien that caused you to forget.”
“Are you saying?” I swallowed hard. “I didn’t inject myself?”
“No, my darling,” said Cameron. “You didn’t. Your fingerprints weren’t on the syringe.”
CHAPTER 23
AN OCEAN OF tears.
Off came my collar and I was released from that long, dangling chain.
Cameron wrapped me in that blanket and carried me in his arms out of the dungeon and up into the foyer and beyond, rising up that sweeping stairway. Burying my face into his chest, I wept, soaking his shirt, gripping him like a lifeline.
Inside the marble tiled bathroom, he made quick work of removing my bra and panties and lifted me into the pre-drawn bathtub. Bubbles foamed and water sloshed around me and over the rim.
When he stripped off his clothes, I let out a sigh of relief, grateful he’d be close again. Quickly, he joined me inside this warm cocoon of water, lying with his back against the tub and pulling me face down on top of him. My front rested along his firm body, my left cheek on his chest. I breathed him in, still and quiet and savoring the hypnotic rhythm of his heartbeat. Safe in his embrace.
Despite feeling as though I’d been trapped down there for a lifetime, it had probably only been three days, but being stuck in that cocoon of change had felt longer. Leaving my past behind, I refused to think of it now and have it encroach on what was surely perfection. Old feelings dissipated, scattering to the far corners of nowhere, leaving me whole and healed. If I’d believed I’d surrendered before, I was naïve. This was surrender, this feeling of being completely beholden to another, needing nothing other than Cameron.
It was too late. I was smitten, lost, having willingly given myself over to this miracle of a man. Now I understood why everyone held him in such high regard. His brilliance was blinding and right now he was my knight in shining armor.
He peered down at me. “How are you doing?”
“Oh fine,” I said.
He kissed my head. “That morning, right after you got home from school, you found your mother’s dealer in your house. You called 911 to report him. According to the police records, your mother answered the door when the police arrived and tried to talk them out of coming in. They were reassured it was a misdial.”
My call for help had gone unanswered.
“Your mother made the worst decision of her life,” he said. “She left her dealer alone in the bathroom with you. He probably reassured her he’d talk you out of talking to the police. I imagine she had no idea he’d inject you.”
“It was his fingerprints found on that needle in the bathroom?” I asked.
“Yes. After your mother died, he disappeared.”
“How did you find out all this?”
“Ethan subpoenaed each and every report. We both read everything, from the coroner’s findings to the police records. We discreetly made inquiries to your school. That’s how I found out what time you left that day. The forensic reports were precise. Once correlated, they clearly formed a conclusion.”
“You are both so clever,” I said, awestruck.
“Ethan’s office wields some impressive legal power. I flew him out on my private jet.”
“You have a private jet?”
“Yes.” He kissed my lips. “One of us needed to be there to gather all the information. Chat to the neighbors. That kind of thing.”
My body tensed and Cameron’s hand caressed my back.
“Ethan’s very discreet,” he said. “Very trustworthy. He’s been through a lot himself so he knows how important it is to work through a difficult issue. He’s very fond of you.”
“I can’t believe my mom let that happen to me.”
“She made what she’d believed was the best decision. Calmed you by putting Ambien in your sandwich. You were heavily sedated by the time her dealer injected you. Maybe he thought they could blame the drugs on you if the house was raided. Accuse you of being a wayward teenager.”
“I’m going to find him,” I said. “I want justice.”
“I have my private investigator looking for him, Mia.”
“Will it be hard to prove?”
“Perhaps.” He sighed. “I wish I could travel back in time and rescue you from that house.”
I shifted against him. “You’re rescuing me now.”
“From here on in, I’m going to protect you. Prevent anything bad from happening to you ever again. Possessive, I know, but now you’re under my protection.”
“Don’t send me away,” I said. “I’m not ready to go.”
His embraced tightened. “It’s imperative you listen very carefully to what I have to tell you.”
My heart sunk with those words, as though I already knew.
“You can’t stay in Chrysalis after tonight,” he said. “You’re very vulnerable. It would be exploitative of me.”
My stomach bunched into knots. “We’ll still see each other?”
But it isn’t enough.
“Of course. Tomorrow morning, a car will take you home.” He kissed my forehead again. “It’s for the best.”
My tears fell onto his chest, and despite swiping them away it was useless.
Cameron lifted me up and lowered me again so that I now rested with my back against the other end of the tub. He reached for a sponge and squirted bath gel onto it. He bathed me, sweeping the sponge over my body in sensuous circles. In a dreamy state of relaxation, I merely lay back and allowed his nurturing. Too many times he broke my gaze, but I refused not to look at him, wallowing in the warmth of his tenderness and needing more of this beautiful man.
Beside the bath, I waited patiently as he took his time to dry me with a soft plush towel. He wrapped my body in another and led me into the bedroom that I vaguely had a memory of en
tering.
“You’ll sleep here tonight,” he said.
The large central bed strewn with throw pillows was luxurious, and despite this exhaustion and need to climb under the covers, I was reluctant to let him leave. The interior designer had gone all out, making the room cozy with its light colored furniture and feminine touch. It was all very extravagant.
Not that I cared.
He removed a pink satin nightgown from a dresser and gestured for me to approach. With my arms up, he slid the low V of the chiffon ruffle Babydoll over my head and tugged it down.
“I won’t be far away.” He gestured. “Just a few rooms down. In you go.”
“You won’t sleep with me?”
“No. Get in, Mia. You need to rest.”
I scrambled onto the bed and pulled the comforter up and over me. A knock at the door caused me to freeze.
“Perfect timing,” he said, giving a heart-stopping smile. “How about we break the house rules and have dinner in bed?”
Seriously, did this man know what he did to me?
He opened the bedroom door and exchanged a few words of thanks with whoever was there. Cameron opened the door farther and wheeled in the food trolley strewn with two silver domed lids. The bottle of white wine had been corked and he merely had to pour two glasses. He handed one over to me. It was strange to have him serve me food. He was used to be waited on.
As though reading my thoughts, he said, “You need privacy tonight.” He took a sip of wine, his tongue brushing over his bottom lip.
I was jealous of that glass, coveted his fingertips tracing along that stem, wanting them on me.
Dinner in bed felt so decadent, and thoughts of Scarlet and her love of being naughty came to mind, her words of what happened to butterflies and their stages of transformation. Cameron had stripped away this façade of pretense, ensuring my transparency, yet I felt robbed of what should follow. Shouldn’t there be another stage? Something about a transformation? I felt stunted, as though I’d successfully emerged from my Chrysalis only to have no idea of where to go from here.
Despite my appetite being subdued, my stomach growled.
Sitting next to each other on the bed with our backs against the soft leather headboard, we ate from our plates resting on our laps, enjoying the delicious meal of fresh salmon with hollandaise sauce and asparagus. Despite my hunger, I only manage a few mouthfuls.
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