How do I respond to that? It's certainly not something I should be discussing via text. For a little while, I contemplate how to reply. I shake my head, suck in a breath, and type out: We'll talk tonight.
I'm a coward, but what else can I do?
I don't receive a response, and I don't expect one. He asked the question, and it looks as though he already has his answer. I just wished he hadn't asked until I saw him face to face.
The moment I'm dropped off at Patricia's, she's at the door waiting for me, her arms open for an embrace.
"Did you manage to find everything?" she asks, a slight twinkle in her green eyes.
"I did." I hold up my bag for her to see.
"Come on in. Let's get in from the cold and have some warm tea."
As I'm walking through the door behind her, my phone pings, alerting me to a message. I retrieve it, thinking it's from Ethan, but it's from Owen.
How are you feeling? Any better? Remember to keep your door locked!
Before I can even respond, there's another message.
I can't find my planner anywhere. Do you know where it is? What appointments do I have?
I smile, imagining his panic.
I will find your planner for you, so stop panicking. You only have one appointment today at 11 with Mr. Gateshead.
I hit SEND, but then remember his first question.
I'm fine, thank you. Feeling a little better now.
I'm about to put the phone away when I get another message.
Are you sure it's not morning sickness?
Shaking my head, I let out a laugh.
Yes, I'm sure.
"Is that my son harassing you on your day off?"
I laugh at the thought of how well she knows her son. "How did you guess?"
"Are you really asking that question?" We both chuckle as we head for the kitchen to make some tea.
"He's panicking over his planner."
Patricia places her kettle over the stove before turning to me. "You didn't manage to put it back?"
I shake my head. "Not yet, but I will as soon as I get home."
"At least we can take the copies now."
"Yes, that's one less thing to worry about."
A tiny crinkle forms at her brow. "I don't like any of this."
"Believe me, the feeling is mutual. Something stinks of very fowl eggs. It's bad enough that Owen won't confide in me." I focus my attention on the cookies when she speaks.
"You two are very close. I've never seen Owen act like he does with you…or with anyone else for that matter."
My hand freezes midair, a nervous swallow almost making me choke. "I have his back, one hundred percent. I wish he would realize that."
"Oh, he does," Patricia replies, a little sing-song in her voice. "He's just too stubborn to admit it. Too many people have let him down over the years, so it's no wonder he has trust issues. I think he's having a hard time adapting to the thought that there's someone he can finally lean on…other than his mother, of course."
Grabbing the plate, I turn to find Patricia right behind me. She lays a hand on my shoulder, a small smile lighting up her face. "I'm glad he has you." Tears well in my eyes, and she turns away as the kettle starts to whistle. "Let's get on with it, shall we?"
As always, I bring in the cookies as Patricia brings in the tea. We sit in our usual positions and Patricia pours out the tea as I sort through all the paperwork I have.
"I haven't really had time to scan through these yet," I begin, laying all the copies out in date order. I find the one I'm looking for and point. "This one interests me. It's around the time they met." The entrance says, "Charity Gala, New York, 8pm."
"I remember my mom mentioning some kind of charity gala ball and it stuck with me. I don't know why, it just did."
I look up from where my finger is pointed to a Saturday 15th May. Patricia is studying it curiously.
"I'll let my PI know to concentrate on that one first."
I nod, and we start to go through the rest of the dates. Apart from another art function a week later, there isn't really anything else that sticks out.
Glad we've narrowed it down to two dates, Patricia calls her PI, and I get to work helping her fax over the information so he can begin his investigation as soon as possible. When we finish, I slink into my chair, a huge sigh leaving my lips.
"I don't know why, but I feel a huge weight off my shoulders."
"It can't be easy living under your conditions with a mother like that. I hate knowing every time you leave me you're going back to her."
Trying not to tear up at her empathy, I swallow hard, a lump forming in my throat. "If any of this even remotely leads to getting rid of her, then it was all worth it in the end. I'd take it all over again if I had to. I just hope we can finally let Owen be free. That is my number one priority."
Patricia grabs my hand, squeezing it in hers. "People like her can only hide so many secrets before they eventually get out. If there's something to find—which I believe there is—we'll find it. Together.”
I squeeze her hand back and we spend the rest of my time there drinking tea and eating cookies.
Roughly two hours later, the same cab driver picks me up and takes me straight home. When I arrive, all is quiet, allowing me to sneak back into Owen's office and place the planner where I found it.
It's after I leave and I'm about to sneak up to my room that voices coming from the living room halt me. I tiptoe toward the door, which is conveniently ajar. It's only a fraction, but it’s enough. Something tells me whoever’s in there intended to shut the door, but failed.
"This is a problem, Ethan. A big problem. I thought you said she was coming around to the idea?"
My heart sinks at my mother's voice. And I have this gut-wrenching feeling she’s talking about me.
"I thought so too, but then she sends me this message this morning."
"How can I get rid of this fucking bitch?" she seethes, and my eyes go wide.
My own mother.
She paces the room, her hand to her chin and a distinct line forming on her forehead as she concentrates. "We'll have to revert to plan B."
As she says this, my phone pings, and they both shoot their gazes toward me. Panicking, I take flight up the stairs. The moment I'm through the door, I lock it and take my phone out.
Owen's been trying to contact me for over an hour. Message after message asking if I'm okay. He's even called, but because I had my phone on silent while I was at Patricia's, I never knew.
A thumping on my door and the sound of a familiar male voice calling my name has the hairs on the back of my neck rising with terror.
My heart thumps wildly in my chest. I try to call Owen back, but my hands are shaking so badly, I keep pressing the wrong button.
"Fuck!" I shout, frustrated at myself.
My brain hurts. It's obvious my mom and Ethan have been planning on me moving to California, but now they know it's not happening. What the fuck is plan B?
Growling in frustration, I finally manage to press the right button when the door slams open. Screaming, I drop the phone, turning to my mother and Ethan. They stroll through, looking decidedly unfazed by the fact I've caught them colluding with each other.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't my bitch of a daughter. It seems I've underestimated you."
Ethan walks behind her, hands behind his back like he isn't a threat. His expression is one I've never seen before—like an evil smirk, revealing the devil I was oblivious to see. Whatever it is, it sends chills down my spine.
"You're not going to get away with this," I snap back, trying my hardest not to let them see my panic.
My mother throws her head back, laughing. "Don't you know by now, I already have? No matter what I do, Owen will take it like the good little lap dog he is."
All these months of asking the same damn question. "Why? I don't understand."
"That, my dear, is between him and I." She rolls her eyes. "Why couldn't y
ou just fall for Ethan and be out of my fucking hair? All you had to do was open your legs and fall in love…"
"I think she's already done that," Ethan replies with a vindictive smirk.
My mom points a finger in the air. "Oh, yes, that's right. My fantastically loyal husband." She laughs at my widened eyes, walking closer to me so she can whisper. "You always thought you were getting one over on me by fucking him, didn't you? Well, it seems the joke’s on you now, because you've ended up falling for him. How does it feel being in love with a man you can never have? Huh, little daughter of mine?" When a single tear betrays me, she gazes into my eyes and laughs like this is the biggest joke of all time.
As much as I hate admitting it, she's right. I did do this as revenge at first, but then I did fall in love with him. I had been kidding myself this whole time that we could use each other without getting feelings involved.
"Cat got your tongue?" she asks, a sting in her voice. When all I do is look at her, fire in my eyes, she simply shrugs. "That's a first."
Ignoring her jibe, I get to the point. "So, what's your plan B?"
She locks me with a curious look before responding. "Plan B is fake your kidnapping so we can get some money out of my tight bastard of a husband."
Despite my predicament, I laugh. "Tight? You spend his money every week like he’s handing out candy. How can you even call him tight?"
"It's not enough," she simply adds. "Sure, I have a credit card, which he tops off each week, but I want more. Considering Owen has kidnap insurance, this seems the only logical way forward."
I shake my head, unable to fathom her actions. "How do you think you can get away with this when I know what you're up to?"
She turns her head, her smile growing more evil than I’ve ever seen. Cold ice forms up my spine, sending chills through me.
"Ethan has a way of getting rid of you."
My head explodes. I never thought she would stoop to this level. "You're going to have your only daughter killed?"
She cackles, sending another ice-cold bucket of water over me. "No, that would be too easy. You're still young enough to sell onto the black market. Ethan's already got some healthy shots to show some contenders. I can't see it myself, but Ethan says he will get a good buyer for you."
Wait…what?
Before I can even react to that, she turns to Ethan. "Deal with it. I have to go get my nails done. They look so…tacky." She inspects her perfectly manicured nails and sneers at them before retreating out the door.
As soon as she shuts it, I turn my gaze on Ethan. "You know I won't go quietly, don't you?"
Ethan cocks his head, studying me for a moment. He walks forward a little, brandishing a needle. "That's why I have this."
Screaming, I try to scramble to my bed to get away from him, but he's too fast. Grabbing me from behind, he pulls me into him, wrapping his hand around my mouth. A painful sting on my neck causes me to squeal, and then immense pressure as the solution goes in.
Closing my eyes, I come to the dreaded realization he has me trapped. Intense fear creeps up my spine as Ethan pulls the needle out, setting it on my nightstand.
"Don't worry, little butterfly, you won't care about anything in a few minutes. Let the bliss flow through you." I struggle in his arms, but all he does is tighten his grip, laughing at me. "You're quite the feisty one, aren't you?"
My head dizzies, and my limbs start to feel like jelly. He must sense the moment the drugs kick in as he lays me down on my bed, freeing me from his clutches.
"Your mom thinks I'm taking you to a little renovated barn house right now, but I can't help but take advantage of you while you're like this."
I try to move my arms and legs, but it's like I'm bound by some unseen force. I try to open my mouth to ask him what the fuck he gave me, but no words come out. It's like I'm frozen in my own body.
In absolute horror, he takes the bottom of my skirt, pulling it high until it's around my waist. Panic wracks my whole body, but try as I might, I still can't move. My head spins again, but I’m determined to fight this overwhelming feeling to sleep.
A dip of my bed has my eyes snapping open. Ethan crawls ever so slowly, until he's hovering over me. He bends down, kissing my lips and down toward my neck. Tears begin falling down my cheek as he begins to defile me.
"Three fucking weeks I've had to put up with you teasing me, and now I've reached a breaking point. I have to have you, Savannah. I can't wait any longer."
His hand curves around my breast, pinching my nipple. I manage to let out a little whimper, but when I try to scream again, nothing comes out. His heavy breathing makes me quake with terror as he kisses all the way down my body.
Then something catches my ears, making my fear triple in intensity. Frantically, he starts to undo his belt buckle, and I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing it would all go away.
Sleep wants to take over, and this time, I let it. The sound of his zipper is next, causing me to pray to God to take me under sooner.
Thankfully, before Ethan rapes me, my prayers are answered.
Jealous Kind
Joe Cocker
Two months earlier
It's been almost a month since the shooting, and I still find it hard at times. It gets easier with each passing day, so that's something. Owen helps. He may not feel like it, but he is. It also helped that we did attend the veteran's funeral in DC, and thankfully only had each other for company. We stayed a long weekend, telling my mother he wanted to show me the sites. We booked two rooms for show, but we only spent our days and nights in one.
It was bliss.
In fact, it was a bit too blissful. It was enough to give me insight into a world where Owen and I could be together. We were able to sightsee while holding hands, safe in the knowledge no one in DC knew us. Our days were filled with laughter, while our nights were filled with passion.
On our last night in DC, Owen took me to a fancy restaurant where we had one of the best steaks I have ever tasted. We drank wine, dancing into the night. My favorite song, "Come Away With Me," by Norah Jones played for us as Owen held me tightly in his arms. I doubt Owen listened to the words to find the meaning behind them meant more to us than he realized. It brought a sadness within me I have been unable to shake since our return.
If he wasn't so loving and tender toward me, it would be easier to forget the memories burned inside my brain. His caress in the mornings when we wake, me wrapped up in his arms like he was scared I'd disappear. I doubt it's how he feels, but he has a fucking good way of making me feel it.
Sometimes, I wonder if I can walk away without a backwards glance when the time comes—move on with life without the memories of our time together.
Problem is, I know deep inside it's not that simple. Owen's stamped a mark on my heart that will be a permanent fixture. It's gotten to a stage where I realize I will grieve when we part. It's just how long that grief will last I’m unsure of.
His kindness toward me is something that comes naturally to him. He cares for my wellbeing, but as far as feelings are concerned, there's only one that stands out.
Passion.
He feels deep, resonating passion for me. It's the one true emotion he's unable to hide. As far as the rest are concerned? Nothing. Nada. He's like a fortress, keeping whatever other response he may have toward me tightly locked up.
"Your shoes are absolutely divine," a voice says, making me jump.
Dressed to the nines in a pale blue, chiffon dress, I turn to the sound of the voice and find two men impeccably dressed in matching gray suits. Like me, they’re both carrying a glass of champagne in their hands, and have obviously decided to mingle at this little soiree Owen has made my mom and I attend. I'm grateful for the company as I've been stuck at the bar area for the last ten minutes bored out of my mind.
I offer a big smile for both the young gentlemen. Early twenties, I would say, with pristine gelled hair…and maybe even a touch of foundation on their faces.
Gl
ancing down at my diamond-encrusted Louboutin heels Owen felt he had to buy me as a present one day after I had—in his words—fucked his brains out, I twist my foot, displaying them more.
"Thanks. They're Louboutin."
The man with the slightly darker hair turns to the other gentleman. "See, I told you." The other guy rolls his eyes, and the slightly darker-haired guy scoffs in response. "He thinks he knows everything about fashion, but I keep telling him he will never beat me. I'm the queen of dresses and high heels."
Fully turning to them both, I smile at his bubbly persona. “You’ll be the next fashionista, no doubt.”
"Please don't encourage him. We'll be here all night."
Slightly darker-haired guy swats him in the chest playfully before displaying his hand for me to shake. I do so, noticing the ever so light touch of the fingers.
"My name's Brian, but every Saturday night, everyone knows me as Brianna."
"Nice to meet you, Brian and Brianna. Where do you perform?"
"It's called Little Devils in Hell's Kitchen. Have you heard of it?"
I smile. "I certainly have. I snuck in there once with a friend when I was sixteen, but we got caught and thrown out."
Pulling out a card from his pocket, he hands it to me. "If you come on a Saturday, tell them at the door Brianna invited you and you'll get front row to watch me perform."
I take the card, looking down. There's a picture of a man in drag, looking like more of a woman than I do. Pristine blonde hair in a fifties style, perfectly aligned blue eyeshadow, and bright red lips. He puts my forty-five-minute effort earlier tonight to shame.
"Is that you?" I ask, almost screeching.
He beams with pride. "It certainly is."
"You look absolutely stunning."
"Why, thank you, dear." As if remembering he had someone with him, he turns to the guy next to him, motioning in his direction. "This is Todd, but he hates that name. All his friends call him Frankie."
I frown. "Why Frankie?"
Brian leans over to whisper. "Because he's in love with Frankie Goes to Hollywood." He gives me a wink, causing a little giggle to escape.
Forbidden Desires Page 21
