17. Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Anson
" A re you dating this guy who goes to sex clubs?" I asked, falling into step with Nova.
"Anson, I'm literally five minutes from home. Go away."
"What happened to Mr. Larue?"
"We're not at work," she clipped, her pace brusque. How could she walk like that in those skinny heels? But damn, they made her legs and ass look amazing.
We were speed-walking through the heart of Savannah's historic district, with its cobblestone streets shaded by centuries-old live oaks draped in Spanish moss.
"Nova, we need to talk," I said softly.
She walked ahead of me, and then turned suddenly and stopped, so I almost crashed into her.
"Talk," she ordered.
"What if I can forgive you?"
She cocked an eyebrow. "For what?"
"For—"
"Don't you dare say stealin', 'cause, Anson Larue, I stole nothin' from you, ever. The fact that you thought that broke my heart. I thought you knew me, but I was wrong about that, and about you."
There was such fire in her. It made my dick hard. I liked a woman who stood up to me. I liked an intelligent woman who could hold her own. I liked Nova.
A few people walked by us, watching us with curiosity. "Can we go somewhere private?" I requested.
She looked me for a long moment, and then turned around, and started to walk fast. "My place is close by."
I was relieved that she didn't ask me to go fuck myself.
How had I become the bad guy in this story? She was the one who broke us up. She knew how much I valued honesty, and hell, that's what attracted me to her. She was always straight with me. Open. But what the fuck did I know?
We walked silently, our footsteps loud.
Nova's apartment building had wrought-iron balconies that exuded old-world charm, and a brick exterior that I could see had been painstakingly restored.
She took me to her apartment on the third floor. Her heels didn't seem to stop her from taking the stairs instead of the elevator.
I was reminded of the times when we'd done this same thing. Then, her apartment hadn't been in such a nice and clean building. That had been a dive with hookers and druggies, crying babies, and the smell of weed and urine. But she was never embarrassed about it or asked me to help her live in a better place. It wouldn't have been a problem. I was a Larue. We owned a lot of the rental real estate in Sentinel. Hell, we owned most of the town. The one time I'd suggested I could find her a better place, she'd shut it down.
"I live where I can afford it," she said. "When I graduate and get a job, I'll live in a nice place. For now, this will do."
It looked like she had found that nice place .
She didn't have a purse like most women I knew. Even when she came to Sentinel, she had a backpack.
There was something extraordinary about how Nova carried herself—she was confident, yes, but it didn't seem fake. It appeared to have been hard won.
She pulled a key from a pocket in her dress, along with her phone, and opened her door. Immediately, she walked in without waiting for me, turned on a light.
I closed her door behind me.
Her apartment was beautiful. It had high ceilings with original crown moldings, and large windows framed with lace curtains. The living room featured a plush, overstuffed sofa, adorned with soft, patterned throw pillows, and a vintage wooden coffee table that held a stack of well-loved books, including The Reprieve by Sartre, a book I'd had to read for school, which was why she'd read it as well.
On her dining table, there was a vase of fresh dahlias—just like when I used to eat at her place.
Warm, earthy tones and rich textures dominated the decor, with a mix of antique and contemporary furniture pieces creating a harmonious blend of past and present. She didn't have a lot, but what she did have was quality.
It was probably a one-bedroom, from what I could see. I wondered what kind of bed she had.
"Would you like something to drink?" she asked politely. "I have beer and wine."
"Either is good with me."
We walked into her kitchen. It was quaint, with white cabinetry and copper accents that opened into a small dining nook, where a round table and antique wooden chairs with orange upholstery defined Nova to the T.
Nova pulled out a bottle of Chardonnay from the fridge. She took it to the round table, and set two glasses next to it. She poured the wine and sat. I waited to be invited to take a seat.
"Don't stand on ceremony, for God's sake," she muttered.
I sat across from her. I picked up the glass of wine and held it up. "Cheers."
"Sure," she snapped but didn't clink her glass with mine. "Now talk."
"You said something about my asking Pete to destroy your humanity. What did that mean?"
She drank some wine. "You're going to pretend you don't know?"
"I'm not pretendin', Sugar. I don't know what you're talkin' about."
"First things first, stop calling me Sugar. I'm not your Sugar, doll, sweetheart, darlin', whatever. I'm Nova. Use my fucking name."
Beau had called her both sweetheart and doll. Guess he had permission. But what I'd seen hadn't been two people fucking—it was almost like they were siblings. What was apparent was that some very influential people in Savannah supported and cared for Nova.
"My, my, I don't think I've ever heard you swear before." I couldn't help but poke at her. She'd changed a lot, and despite the fact that I enjoyed the changes I noticed, it bothered me that I didn't know her any longer.
"You know, Anson, I've waited for years to have this opportunity to tell you what a horrible person you are, so thank you for giving it to me." There was nothing calm about her now. The woman I'd met at work was nowhere to be seen.
"It's my pleasure, Sugar ," I taunted.
She didn't take the bait and just continued as if I hadn't said anything. "Even if you believed I stole from you, and you branded me a thief, you didn't have to make sure that I left Sentinel with three broken ribs, a black eye, a split lip, a concussion, and bruises all over my body."
My entire body went stiff at that. "What the fuck?"
She chuckled mockingly. "Now, now, Anson, you can't just pretend that you didn't ask your buddy, the Deputy Sheriff, to throw me in a cell with Raymond Carre."
I felt nauseous. "Excuse me?"
She leaned back, her jaw clenched as if she was steeling herself to be able to say what she'd been waiting to tell me for years.
"Pete told me how you'd suggested that it would be so much fun to leave me locked in a cell with a racist son of a bitch, who beat and raped his wife and God knows how many other women on a regular basis. Raymond Carre was working off a drunk. You knew that when you came to see me that night. What did you think would happen, Anson?"
I straightened. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"If you're gonna keep pretending you didn't do what you did, then this conversation is a bit too one-sided for my liking."
I felt something shrivel inside me. I tried to remember what I'd said to Pete that night. Something about making sure that Nova learned her lesson or paid for her mistake.
I leaned over, my face close to hers. "Raymond Carre hurt you?"
She laughed. It was empty, hoarse, painful. "Yes, Anson, he did. Pete left me in the cell with him for thirty minutes. Longest thirty minutes of my life. A racist rapist. A half-black girl who was a quarter of his size."
"Pete's a lot of things, but he wouldn't do something like that."
"So, not only am I lying about stealin', but I'm also lying about having injuries. Would you like to see my medical records? The photos? Because my lawyer has them."
I couldn't believe it. "If that's the case, why the fuck didn't your lawyer get Pete in front of a judge in handcuffs?"
"Because I didn't want the burden of a trial."
"Emmett Bodine got you out. You seemed close to Beau, his son. You want to tell me how you knew Beau's daddy?"
"No, I won't talk to you about Emmett."
"You must be somethin' special to him."
She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. All the fire I'd seen earlier had been tamped down. Her eyes were blank. They had no feelings, no emotions.
"Pete had no choice but to let me go. A, he had no evidence against me. None at all. He couldn't prove he found your grandma's jewelry in my apartment. And him just saying he did wasn't good enough for the ADA. B, since he committed an illegal act by leaving me in a locked cell with a known sex offender, he was at risk of losing his job. C, I needed to get to a doctor, so Pete had no choice but to release me."
I stared at her. I couldn't form words. I couldn't understand what she was saying. This was not the story Pete had told me.
"So, fuck you, Anson, for standing there feeling righteous. Even if I did steal from you—did you think the right punishment was leaving an eighteen-year-old to be sexually assaulted by Raymond Carre?" Nova looked just about ready to break into two.
"I don't understand," I hissed.
She rolled her eyes. "What's there to understand?"
Raymond Carre was a rapist. He went to jail for raping a fifteen-year-old girl a couple of years after Nova left. He was still in Reidsville Prison, serving twenty-five to life without a chance of parole.
"Did he rape you?" Fear jangled my nerves.
"No."
I felt relief pour through me.
I immediately controlled myself. Nova was a thief and a liar. I couldn't just take her word for it. I knew Pete, had known him my whole life. He was an asshole at times, but he'd never put his job at risk. It was too important to him. And he wouldn't knowingly hurt someone physically.
She scoffed when she saw my expression. "Wondering who to believe, your precious Pete or me?"
"Sugar, I've known Pete a whole lot longer than I've known you." She looked so sincere that a part of me was sure she was telling the truth. But the man who'd had his heart broken seven years ago wasn't quite ready to walk into a trap again.
"You said you had broken ribs? How did you get those?"
"How do you think? Carre tried to rape me. I fought him, and he beat the crap out of me."
I shook my head. "This makes no sense."
"Why?"
"Pete would never do that."
"Even if the great Anson Larue asked him to?" she sneered.
"I never asked him to do that. I never would. And Pete's a lot of things, but he's not that ," I barked at her.
She folded her arms. "Fine. Anything else you want to talk about? ‘Cause I'm tired and need to get some sleep."
"I would never have wanted you to be…hurt in that way."
"Really? So, in what way would it have been okay?" she demanded. "Carre didn't rape me, Anson, but he violated me all the same. I'd just had my first sexual experience, and right after, I had to live through being sexually assaulted because you asked your buddy to make it so."
I stared at her for a long moment. "I don't believe you," I whispered. I couldn't. If what she was saying was true, I'd gotten a young girl beaten up and almost raped for stealing. I'd caused her physical harm—and that wasn't something I'd ever do. And neither would Pete. I was confident of that.
"We're done." She stood up, pushing the chair she was sitting on back so hard that it crashed onto the floor.
"Nova, you can't just—"
"You didn't believe me when I told you I wasn't a thief, and you don't believe me now."
"I know Pete."
"And I thought I knew you ." She had her fists on the table as she leaned down, her eyes on mine. "But now that I see you sitting here, defending Pete and hating on me, one thing is clear—it was you who asked him to make sure I paid for what I did. And I did pay, Anson. I paid a whole hell of a lot. It took months for me to get physically well, months while I still had to work to pay my bills. The trauma of that night is something I carry to this day. If a man touches me the wrong way, I freak out. Trust me, it's no fun to become a basket case in front of others. I can't even be in confined spaces anymore without hyperventilating. So, Anson, maybe we should call it even, yeah?"
My heart pounded in my chest. "You're admitting you stole from me?" The victory of her confession felt hollow.
She laughed without humor. "Ye gods! You're dumber than you look, Anson Larue. No, I'm not admitting that; what I'm sayin' is that I suffered because you're a man without integrity, without any moral standing."
"Because you're so fucking moral?" I barked. "I'd have given you anything . All you had to do was ask. And, yet…fuck, Nova. You hurt me. Hell, you wounded me."
"And you think you didn't hurt me by having me arrested on trumped-up charges that Pete had no way of making stick?"
"Trumped up? He found the fucking stolen goods in your apartment," I bellowed.
"Don't you dare raise your voice at me," she struck back. "Even the ADA didn't believe him when he said that. Talk to her. As a Larue, I'm sure you can get anyone in Sentinel county to talk to you."
"I don't need to do that. I trust my friend."
She folded her arms. "Why did you even want to talk to me if you don't want to believe a word that comes out of my mouth?"
I put my hands on her shoulder. "I came to forgive you."
"Really?"
"You were poor and desperate. I understand," I said hoarsely, trying to throw away seven years of anger so I could have closure.
She pushed me away from her. "Listen to me carefully because I'm never telling you this again. I never stole anything from you. Ask anyone who knows me, and they'll tell you I have integrity."
"You may have sold your new and fake self to your friends and colleagues—but I will expose you." I hadn't meant to say that. I had really meant to tell her I was letting the past go. But she'd pushed all my buttons by continuing to maintain her innocence. Why couldn't she just tell me the truth? Then we could move past it. Then maybe we could….
I ran a hand over my face. I was a moron. She was correct; I should never have come to her place. It was pointless.
She shook her head. "Get out, Anson. We're done. I'll talk to Nina, and you can find a new project manager."
"What? Why?" I couldn't let her slip away, not when I'd just gotten her back in my clutches. Or was it the other way around? Did she have her claws in me ?
"Because it's taking too much energy to deal with your hatred; with Bailey's maliciousness, and the general toxicity that you and she emanate whenever I'm in your presence. It's not worth the next step in my career." She sounded sincere. Resigned as well.
I should have walked away then, but that look on her face wouldn't let me. She was vulnerable right now, and she reminded me of my Nova.
I had no clue how it happened, but suddenly, my hands were holding her face, and my lips were on hers. My tongue pushed into her mouth. I groaned at the taste of her. It felt like a homecoming.
I remembered what this felt like, this urgency, this hunger. It was as intense as it used to be. I still wanted her until I couldn't think straight.
I expected her to fight me; when she put her hands on my wrists, I thought she'd pull them off her, but instead, her hands slid to my shoulders.
Her sweet tongue wrapped around mine, accepting me, and her nails bit into my flesh. She held on to me like I was the fucking air she needed to breathe, and I felt the same way.
She moaned, and that sound wrapped around my cock. I stroked her cheeks as I continued to kiss her, changing the angle of our mating mouths.
I pulled back a little, but it was too soon to stop for both of us. Our mouths collided again, and this time, her tongue delved into my mouth.
How many others had she kissed after me? I had no right to think about that. No right to ask her. I had moved on and on and on. Between Nova and Bailey there had been Bailey on and off; and several others. But no one tasted as fucking sweet as my Nova.
Her skin was still as soft as I remembered. I want to push my cock against her. I wanted to fuck her so badly. I wanted inside her. I wanted things I couldn't have. That thought made me slow the kiss. We nibbled, caressed, and brushed mouth to mouth.
Her lips were swollen, and I wanted to kiss her again and again and again. The chemistry between us was no surprise. It had been thrumming like an out-of-control animal ever since I laid eyes on her at Savannah Lace.
When I raised my head, she stepped away from me and put a hand on her lips, shocked, I could see, by her own behavior. I saw regret and shame swarm her eyes, and I felt her remorse deep within me.
What had felt like homecoming a moment ago now felt like self-betrayal to both of us. "All that talk about integrity, and I could probably fuck you raw right now, and you'd let me."
I regretted the words instantly. The hurt in her eyes almost brought me to my knees. She was in so much pain, and I'd caused it.
"You're right," she said sadly, her shoulders slumped. "You hurt me. You broke me. You almost got me raped. And I let you kiss me. That doesn't speak highly of me. But Anson, it doesn't do much for you, either. Just now, you cheated on your fiancée. Bailey is not my favorite person in the world, but she deserves better."
She slowly walked to her front door and threw it open, silently asking me to leave. When I got close to her, I saw the tears making their way down her cheeks. I wanted to wipe them away and tell her it was all going to work out. However, I didn't know how to make anything work out. The universe had done a number on me, putting Nova in my path again. She'd been on my mind for years—but now she was in front of me, and I couldn't resist her, couldn't stay away.
"Please, leave," she requested softly.
I didn't know how to handle this Nova. The angry one made me hard. This one made me want to wrap her in my arms, and protect her until I died.
"Nova," I began in a calm tone.
She narrowed her eyes and spoke calmly like she was giving me directions. "You have ten seconds to walk out of here, or I start screaming. The security guard downstairs will be up in seconds, and you will be arrested. As ironic as that would be, I'd like not to have a Savannah Lace client handcuffed in my building."
Just like that, she'd put on her professional mask, and I knew she was serious. She banged the door shut loudly behind me.
While I walked to the Rhodes Hotel, I tried to digest what she'd said. One thing was evident, I had to talk to Sheriff Peter Fontaine .