This man is a monster.
“Be that as it may, I needed to do something to get you to look at things properly. Now you will not be distracted.” I sneer at him, but I don’t tell him about Vixen Publishing. I had already told my lawyer that I would take Caleb’s deal, and I was planning to tell Caleb soon too. The little girl inside me wants to brag to her father. She wants to boast that she’s doing something amazing, that she’s going to own her very own business, she’s going to actually make a difference in something that she loves. And in this imaginary place where she gets to share this with her parents, they look at her with love and tell her how proud they are of her.
But this isn’t a dream, this is the real world. And I’d much rather keep this little bit of joy to myself for now.
“There is nothing further,” he states dismissively, looking down at a stack of papers, not meeting my eyes. “You’ll do as you’re told. Is that understood?” He stares up at me with such intensity, like he can force me to agree so he can be done with this topic altogether. I blink at him, compelling breath to enter my lungs and begging for my eyes to hold back any more tears. My limbs feel heavy. I feel defeated and exhausted, and I haven’t a clue how to escape any of this.
So, I stand from my seat and let myself out, walking through the penthouse like a ghost. I have a faint idea that my mother lounges in the living area, but we don’t even say hello. Why these two wanted children at all blows me away. Actually, you know what, it doesn’t. They simply needed a vessel to continue the family name. To make sure the legacy andeverything they’ve worked forwas passed on.
It’s a strange feeling, having this part of my life finally arrive, when all this time it felt like a distant future that I’d never have to consider, something that would never come to pass…and here we are.
I don’t have room to break; I can’t appear weak in the face of so many vultures. So, in the elevator, and in the Uber home, I keep control of my breath. I find that dark and hollow mask that I had spent years perfecting, and I tug it on, shoving everything as deep down as I can and locking it all away. I spend the elevator ride to my apartment becoming unbreakable, the picture of calm confidence once again.
My phone buzzes and I glance down, reading the message from the group discussing the girls coming over tonight before we head to Bozzelli’s for Noah’s birthday.
I can’t believe it’s already been twelve months. A whole year since I first saw Caleb. Boy, how my feelings toward him have changed. It’s almost poetic.
You know what? Tonight, I don’t want to think about how everything is falling apart. No, I want to just bury it all. Bury the ache and let myself be free. Even if I have to use my age-old habit of pulling on my mask of hollow emptiness, I want to revel in it. I want to remember the joy.
But even still…it’s like there is a part of my heart that is unmarred by the blackness of my life. The part that Caleb managed to crumble and find a way into. Because in the cold, dark emptiness of my apartment where I stand now, all I feel is him. His scent is here, his jumper is on my couch, and when I close my eyes I can see the playful dark pools of his navy-violet eyes.
I suddenly have an itching desire to drown in Caleb. To see his playful smirk, kiss his soft lips, and feel his hands on my skin. I want to tell him about the papers I signed, I want to feel safe to come clean to him…maybe we can work something out?
But I can’t right now. I need to bury the agony I feel at the thought of losing him, bury it deep, right along with the rest of my grief. I don’t want to think about any of it right now because it scares me in more ways than one. That I have somehow let him in so deeply that I can’t bear the thought of him no longer being there…or that there is a real possibility I will chase him away.
I shake it off, messaging the girls a confirmation for meeting up and then heading for the shower to burn it all away.
“Drinks are up!” Addy calls from the kitchen, and Casey and I head in her direction, leaving quite the mess on the bathroom vanity. We’ve spent the last few hours getting ready, andCaseyfinallylet me try to put a full face of makeup on her. She’s gorgeous without it, obviously, but now she looks like a goddamn smoke show.
“Jessie is going to come in his pants when he sees you,” I tease her, and she sputters a laugh, a hint of a blush hitting the tips of her ears, and if she didn’t have full coverage, I’d say her cheeks are almost as rosy has her hair.
“You’re the worst.” She snickers and we make it back out to the kitchen, grabbing an espresso martini each that Addy has prepared. We huddle by the kitchen counter, raising our glasses in a cheers before sipping.
“What time are the guys meeting us there?” Casey asks.
“Uh, around nine. We should leave soon,” Addy says, and we hum agreement as a knock hits the front door.
“It’s open!” I shout, and then in a matter of moments, Stella’s dark, smoky eyes, winged eyeliner, and jet-black straight hair greet us. She looks killer as usual, in tight leather pants that make her legs look like they go all the way to heaven, a black crop to match, with black closed-toe heels, and a black cropped leather jacket. Black, black, and more black. She’s probably the only person in history who can pull it off as well as she can.
“Oh, count me in!” She all but groans when her eyes land on the martinis. Addy quickly makes her one, and Stella joins our little group, taking a seat at the counter.
“Oh! We should get a group photo before we go!” Casey cheers, clapping her hands.
“Yes! I need a new grid photo; I haven’t posted in ages,” I agree, reaching down to shift the girls in my bra and tidy up a couple curls around my face. I reach for the phone and then gesture for us to huddle in. Stella gently takes a few steps away.
“You, too, girl!” I tell her, but she looks a little like a deer stuck in headlights as she takes a few more steps.
“Oh, no. That’s fine. Just you guys.”
“Don’t be silly, you’re one of the girls.” Casey smiles at her and I gently nudge her arm in encouragement. Her eyes seem to soften, but she still shakes her head, a little bit like a lost child, which is such a contrast to her usual sass.
“I, uh…I need to use the bathroom. You guys take the pic. I’ll be back.” We don’t have time to retort before she’s escaping like lightning down the hall to the guest bathroom.
The three of us make eyes, and Addy shrugs, finishing off the final martini. “Told you, she’s a little skittish sometimes.”
“About photos?” I raise a brow.
“About random things. Last time was her bailing on a conference for hospitality venue owners and managers that Lucas invited her to. Something to do with networking. But she said she was sick, though she still turned up at the bar. I don’t know. She gets that look of terror in her eye and all but bolts.”
