Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
It's warm tonight. Too warm for this suit. This fabric shouldn't feel so confining—I wear this in August, when it's ninety and humid—but it does.
I need it gone.
I need to break the fucking window.
Any window. It doesn't matter as long as I destroy it.
Nick places his hand on my shoulder.
I almost deck him.
He doesn't flinch. "You're still sensitive?"
"Fuck off."
"You know what he's doing."
"What about fuck off is unclear to you?"
He takes a step backward. Away from the restaurant. "I have a car waiting." He motions to a sleek black town car parked across the street. "You should leave."
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
"I'm not leaving." I suck a breath through my teeth. "He'll think he's won."
"He has."
I turn toward the restaurant. "If you don't have a point—"
"Why do you let him hold this over you?"
"Let him?" The world goes red. I can't see the blue sky or the green trees or the dark pavement. Only righteous fury. "Fuck you." I try to keep my voice down, but it's impossible.
So I cross the street.
That's not enough. We're still in view of the upstairs window. That bastard can still see me squirming.
I go past Nick's car.
He follows me around the corner. "I'm sorry."
"Don't—"
"You're right. It's not a fair accusation. You're the victim—"
"Don't call me that."
He just stands there, five feet away from me, his posture strong and in control.
How does he do that? He should be crumbling. Or throwing something. Or destroying the nearest car.
How can he stand there and speak softly?
"What are the terms?" he asks.
"The what?"
"You think he hasn't tried to do this to me?"
"What did he—"
"I wouldn't hear it," he says. "He fucked up a deal as retaliation. I was angry. After a few months, it didn't matter."
I swallow hard.
"Is that it? A deal he'll ruin?"
I say nothing.
"Is there a deal?"
"You know that's not—" I push the words through my teeth. Reach for something, anything, to keep the world from spinning. All I find is a tiny tree. It's too small, too weak, too thin. It can't hold me. "I can't let him win."
"That's all it is?"
No.
But I don't want to tell him.
I don't even want to think it.
I squeeze the soft bark until it snaps. It doesn't soothe me. Or ease the ache in my stomach. "He has photos."
Nick freezes. No more strong poker face. Just fear. The kind of deep fear that turns the entire world black. "That's a felony."
"Only if he's caught."
"Shep—"
"Don't." I let the tree crack. Let it split in half. Let its top fall to the ground. "I don't need your opinion. Or your apology. Or your bullshit pep talk. We both know he'll find a way to release them."
"There's metadata. You know—"
"On film."
"No one will—"
"They will."
"People will understand," he says.
"Yes, they'll understand. They'll look at me the way Lizzy did. Thank you for that, by the way—"
"She's my fiancée."
"It's my past."
He says nothing.
"They'll understand I'm a victim."
"Shep—"
"Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me people will see past it. Tell me it won't be a black mark by my name until the end of time."
He doesn't.
"Even if I did out him. If I took him down with me. I'd always be, Shepard Marlowe, the man who was abused by his stepfather." I stare at my brother. "Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me people won't whisper about how he touched me. How he forced me to touch him. Tell me it won't hover over me for the rest of my life."
"It already does."
Fuck him.
"I am sorry, Shepard. Really. You're right. People will talk. People will look at you like you carry a darkness that will infect them if they get too close. But the people who matter, who love you… they'll be able to finally see you."
"As a rape victim."
"That's not what I mean."
Yes, it is. He can explain it any way he wants it. We both know what he means.
I should let people in. Share my ugly past. Let them know why I'm a damaged freak.
"I'm glad it worked out for you." I don't wait for a response. I turn and move toward the restaurant.
But there's something awful around the corner.
Lucien is there. And he's talking to Jasmine.
Chapter Forty-Three
Jasmine
"I didn't realize you and Shep stayed in touch." I try my best smile, but it's not there. I'm happy drunk. My inhibitions are MIA. I want to tell Shep's stepfather to fuck off. I don't know what his deal is. But he clearly makes Shep uncomfortable.
And he's just…
Weird.
Off in some way I can't articulate.
Too nice, too proud, too shiny.
I didn't like him when I was fifteen and I don't like him now.
But I have no idea why. Or why Shep avoids him.
Maybe it's not anything Lucien did. Maybe it's like my inability to taste lychee jelly without curling into a ball of grief.
Maybe Lucien reminds Shep of losing his mother. I understand that.