Chapter 17
Daisy
I cupped my hands over my mouth. What did I just do? I stepped quickly backward out of the spotlight. I didn’t want him to see me lose it. Tears erupted from my eyes as I hit the curtains behind me and fell to the stage.
Gatsby gave me two things to do. Wait for him, and not tell anyone the truth about what happened that night. I’d now broken both promises.
“Are you happy now, knowing the truth?” I shouted through my choked back sobs at the man hiding in the balcony. I stumbled back to my feet. “An innocent soul is rotting in prison because of what I did. And one day, they are going to kill him, and that will be the day I kill myself as well. I only live because I still hope one day I’ll wake up and it won’t be true, but when that hope is finally taken, I’ll have nothing to live for.”
I blinked back tears, knowing I had to get out of there. Lowering my head, I moved toward the edge of the stage, leaped down, and ran up the ramp to the doors. As I reached the auditorium door and gripped the handle, a hand clasped my wrist, stopping me .
“Don’t go,” the man growled from behind me. He pressed his body to my back and wrapped an arm around my middle. I stared at the hand around my wrist, recognizing the tattoos. The man who’d texted me, the man from the shadows, had come down.
“I can’t be here.” I sniffled. “I’ve betrayed him enough.”
“Don’t move.”
Part of me knew I should run, but another part, the part deep inside of me that touched myself to his distorted voice the other night, listened. I relaxed, and the man stepped back, letting me go. A moment later, a blindfold covered my eyes. He tied it firmly and then reached for my hand.
“Let’s talk.” His tone was softer.
“Who are you? Why can’t I see your face?” I asked as he slowly turned me back around.
“Daisy, I find your silent devotion admirable. Not many would continue to love a cannibal.”
“That’s a lie. They wanted to make a lesson out of him. That woman was rich and important. With his good looks, they thought he’d start an uprising, a class war. They couldn’t have that.”
“So, you think they made it all up?”
“Yes,” I confessed. “I can’t...” I wasn’t able to say it aloud. I couldn’t bear to think of the alternative. That he had, in fact, eaten her after I left. “That’s not my Gatsby.”
“Have you spoken to him since? If it were me, I would have had to know what exactly happened that night.”
“No, he told me not to contact him. He was so sure he’d get off. That they’d see it wasn’t him.”
“But they didn’t. They found him guilty. They put him on death row.”
My lower lip began to tremble again. “That they did. How did you know?”
I licked my lips as the man led me down the ramp, back onto the stage. He lifted me up and I crawled to my feet. He let me go, and a moment later, soft music began to play.
“How did you know I love this music?” I asked.
“I have my ways. You ask a lot of questions, Daisy.” He returned to me and took my hands. Slowly, we began to dance in slow circles.
“And you give no answers.”
“Alright, ask something. I’ll give you one for one.”
“How do you know about Gatsby?” I asked again.
He took a moment before replying. “We were cellmates.”
Flashes of his tattoos and the muscles went through my mind. Of course.
“Did he give you all those tattoos?”
“Most of them. And he gave you this one?” He trailed a single finger along the inside of my arm, tracing the words. I shivered all the way from my arm down to my center.
“He did. It was his first ever tattoo.” I smiled softly at the memory of that day. Me on the bed, him leaning over me, his green eyes set in concentration.
“His talents have only grown since then. You’d be proud of him.”
“I already was.”
We danced silently. I moved closer to him. He was strong, confident in his movements. I inhaled his scent. It was all man, and soon, my mind began to create a face from nothing. He was handsome, I presumed, with a chiseled jaw and nose. He was blonde, and his eyes so green...
In my head, I was reunited with Gatsby. I rested my head on his chest and truly relaxed for the first time in ages. This was the life I’d always wanted. He spun me around, and I sighed.
“Does he still think of me?” I whispered.
“Every day,” he replied, just as soft .
“I don’t know why he did it. Took the blame for it all. I begged him to go with me. No one would have known. But he was insistent.”
“He had his reasons. Reasons even he wasn’t sure would pay off.”
“So he sent you in his place?” My words were desperate. I was riding a line I wasn’t sure how to even articulate. I knew it was impossible for him to be the man I really wanted. But he also wasn’t the man I was currently engaged to. Who exactly was I betraying by staying here in this man’s arms?
“You seem lost in thought.” He interrupted my musings.
“Yes. I was thinking of the man I agreed to marry.”
“He’s irrelevant,” the man growled. “When you’re here, he doesn’t exist.”
I snuggled deeper into his chest.
“What about you? Do I get to know about you? Why are you here?”
“Your Gatsby spoke so highly of you. I had to meet you myself. To see if what he saw in you was true.”
“Oh?” I tilted my head upward, despite not being able to see. “And?”
“You’re more than he could have ever imagined.” Our dancing stopped and he took my chin in-between his fingers. My heart was beating wildly as my lips parted, anticipating the kiss that was coming.
His lips pressed lightly against mine, and my world changed. I lost my breath as the kiss prolonged. I opened my mouth further, and his tongue found mine, slowly, as if shy, but curious. Much like myself. Our tongues danced together in slow movements. His hand went down, pausing at the low point in my back. He pressed me tighter against him, and I melted completely in his arms .
I didn’t care who this man was. He wasn’t Max; he wasn’t Gatsby, but for just a moment, he was mine.
His mouth left mine and began moving down. His lips touched my jawline, and then my neck, brushing my hair away. I gasped and writhed as his scratchy face tickled my skin. A small moan slipped from my lips.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Ask me something else.”
“Is this wrong?”
“What?”
“Loving another man while being in your arms?” The music, while low, was now pounding in my ears. The heat from the stage lights was warm, and I found myself struggling to breathe. I pulled myself from his grasp and inhaled deeply. I reached for the blindfold, but he stopped me.
“Don’t do it, Daisy,” he warned. “Take that blindfold off and this will all be over. You’ll never hear from me again, and you’ll never know the truth.”
I dropped my hands to my sides. “The truth?”
“About what happened to him. To your precious Gatsby.”
My heart dropped into my chest. “Is he okay?” I ran back to the stranger, my arms instinctively wrapping around his middle. “Please, tell me he’s alright.”
“He’s fine. But he gave me a message for you. I am to give it to you when I feel you’re ready.”
“When will that be?” I shook my head. “This is cruel. How could you dangle something like that in front of me? This is—this is coercion.” It was all making sense now. He was using my emotions, my vulnerability, my need to be close to the one and only person who ever had my heart, to get me in bed.
“You think this is coercion, but not whatever Max Stanton did to convince you to marry him? Tell me, is the bird still able to sing just because the cage is better, Daisy? You went from your grandmother’s prison to a new one. That’s not what he wanted for you. You deserve more than the life hidden away.” He took me by my elbows. “You can be angry at me all you want, but at the end of the day, I’m not the monster you’re angry at. I didn’t come here to trap you.”
“Then why did you come here?” I demanded, opening my mouth to yell more, but his warm, sensual lips crushed down on mine. I wanted to protest, but my mouth refused. I kissed him back with angry, needy passion, and it took longer than it should have to pull away. Panting and gasping for air, he finally gave me an answer.
“To save you.”