CHAPTER TWO
Blair
It was all I could do not to start hyperventilating.
My eyes scanned his face, taking it in like he would disappear into thin air if I let him out of my sight even for a second.
It felt like no time had passed at all, and for a beat, I was back there, in school, looking around the hallways for any sign of him.
He looked different, and not only because he was older.
He was gorgeous. He’d grown into his features, the pimples and malnourished cheeks replaced by clear skin and angular lines that even the models could envy him for.
His lips were full and sensual. I couldn’t see a burn scar because he wore a turtleneck T-shirt, and his medium-length layered hair was long in front, covering that side of his face.
He’d always been tall, but he was even taller now and, much to my surprise, muscular.
My gaze went to his sinewy legs in black jeans, then to his sculpted abs and wide chest, then to his arms, noting each corded muscle and protruding vein there.
There was also something about the way he carried himself, as though he held all the power here, and it was such a sharp contrast to the withdrawn, quiet boy he was in high school. Where did that confidence come from?
I looked back up, finally meeting his eyes. His beautiful dark brown eyes that now watched me with so much hate I almost drew back.
I frowned, Dad’s words sinking in only now.
Zach was our new gardener. I looked at Dad for any explanation as to how that could be, but as our gazes met, I realized he didn’t recognize him.
If he’d had, he wouldn’t have let him come near this house, let alone become our gardener.
But he’d only seen Zach once, and even if he did remember him, it wouldn’t matter, seeing how different Zach looked now. And what had he called him again? Tom?
My stomach twisted. Something wasn’t right here. This couldn’t be a coincidence. Zach didn’t look surprised to see me, so why did he come to work here? And why did he have a fake name?
“Our gardener?” I asked.
Dad must’ve misinterpreted my confusion because he said, “He’s only twenty-three, but he already has an impressive résumé.”
I raised my brows at Zach. Twenty-three?
Impressive résumé? He was twenty, and assuming that he’d graduated last year, he would have only a year of work experience at most. I remembered Zach had worked part-time back then, but those jobs weren’t even remotely close to what he would be required to do here.
Not that it mattered because it was a moot point anyway.
He’d faked his age, work experience, and his name, unless he’d legally changed it.
No, something wasn’t right here at all.
“Why are you here? You’re not twenty—”
“It’s nice to meet you, Blair.” Zach interrupted me in a friendly voice.
My brows went up. He didn’t want me to expose him to Dad, which was all the more reason for me to do it, but something in his gaze told me I’d be wise to keep quiet. A shiver slithered down my spine, and that took me by surprise as much as his behavior did. For the first time, I felt afraid of him.
“If you have any questions, you can ask me tonight because I’m going to a business meeting now.
Or you can talk to my wife once she gets home from her business trip.
Your room is down that hallway.” Dad motioned toward the hallway opposite the kitchen, which led to the staff’s quarters. “It’s the third room on the left.”
Zach acknowledged that with a nod and a polite smile—a smile that was gone the moment Dad left.
My stomach twisted hard. I was fully aware we were alone now. All the memories of our past rushed back to me, adding to the shock of seeing him here.
“Surprised to see me?” Now that there was no friendly tone to mask his voice, I noted how deeper and rougher it was compared to before.
Manlier. “It’s been a while.” His gaze slid down my body, making my breath hitch.
He gave me a mocking smile as he eyed my makeup.
“You haven’t changed. You’re still all dolled up to hide what’s really on the inside. No surprise there.”
I flinched. “What are you doing here?”
He took a step closer to me, towering over me, and every muscle in my body went on alert. “Did you hope I was dead, maybe? Did you hope I was out of the picture so you wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of what you’d done?”
What? “What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You made sure to send your daddy to throw his money at the problem, as if that would make it magically disappear. But here I am, about to show you money can’t solve everything.”
I grimaced, thinking back to the day when Zach woke up in the hospital and my dad went to make sure he didn’t tell anyone what I’d done.
The next day, he visited his mom and gave her a significant sum of money to ensure Zach stayed quiet.
I hadn’t agreed to that, but I also didn’t have a say in it.
Dad had been making every effort to make sure no one knew what happened in that locker room and that Zach didn’t press charges.
He’d forbidden me to even see Zach so I wouldn’t risk being discovered, and then I heard Zach was gone.
“I didn’t send him to do anything. I didn’t want him to do that.”
Zach snorted. “Like I’d ever believe you. No one ever found out what you did. You didn’t get suspended or pay for it in any way. You made sure you kept living your best life, with no remorse.”
Was this what he’d thought of me this whole time? That I’d made sure the incident was swept under the rug so I could “live my best life”?
“You didn’t tell me what you’re doing here. You’re not here because you want to work here.”
“No, I’m not. I’m here to get my revenge. I’m here to make you pay for this.” He pushed his hair off his face and pulled the collar of his turtleneck down, revealing the expanse of skin where he was burned, allowing me to see all of it.
My heart skipped a beat as I prepared myself to see a stretch of puckered, angry-looking scar.
What I saw, though, was a patch of slightly different color and texture, covering a large part of his neck up to his ear and the side of his cheek almost to his eye.
Still, it was there, and I pressed my hand against my mouth as all the guilt I’d harbored these years returned to me in full force.
“I’m sorry. I—”
“You’re sorry?” He smiled, but it was so cold, so .
. . sinister. “You weren’t sorry when you humiliated me in front of everyone my sophomore year.
You weren’t sorry when you bullied me for almost two semesters, ignoring my pleas to stop.
You weren’t sorry when you caused this.” He pointed at his scar.
“So, no, you don’t get to pretend you’re sorry now. You only get to suffer.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, stumbling back at the cruel promise in his eyes. “What do you mean by that? What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to get justice.” He let go of his hair and turtleneck. “I’m going to hurt you and make you regret everything you did to me.”
I couldn’t believe this. To think that not only did he want revenge but he’d also move into my house to exact it?
“I can’t believe you went to all this trouble to create this ruse about becoming our new gardener. You even created a new identity and lied to my dad. You gave him a fake name.”
“Does it really surprise you? You’ve done way worse things.”
I clenched my hand. He hadn’t denied that it was a fake name. The implications of him providing Dad with a false identity and all the paperwork that came with it weren’t lost on me.
“You’re risking a lot for your revenge. Dad is going to find out, and when he does—”
He took another step toward me, and I had to move back, hitting the wall. “He won’t find out, because you won’t say a word about it.”
What the hell?
“You come to my house under a false identity with the intention of getting revenge, and you tell me not to say a word about it? What the hell is wrong with you?”
He released a laugh, a haunting sound that twisted everything in me. “You really have to ask? After everything you’ve done to me, you have the nerve to ask that?”
I gaped at him, my chest aching hard. “You were wronged, and I get that, but you can’t possibly think this is the right way to deal with it.
It’s not. And I can’t let you do this. I have to tell Dad the truth.
” I moved to leave, but he extended his hand and put it on the wall in front of me, stopping me.
“No, you don’t get anything, Blair. And you won’t say shit to your family, because if you do, I’ll release this video to the public.” He pulled his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and turned its screen toward me.
I released a strangled sound, covering my mouth with my hand.
The screen showed a security camera feed from a VIP room in a local nightclub.
I could clearly see myself rise from a beige leather sofa and pass a low table containing countless bottles of alcohol, packs of cigars, and white lines of coke next to a few one-hundred-dollar bills, on my way to the man standing across from me, his back turned to the camera.
I went to my knees as he unfastened his pants and dropped them around his ankles.
I looked up at him, and he nudged my head closer to him.
I snapped my gaze back up at Zach before I could see more, my heart thundering against my ribs.
This happened last year on my eighteenth birthday.
We were alone at the time—he’d demanded all the girls and security members who were in the room with us to leave—but I hadn’t counted on security cameras. I hadn’t noticed them at all.
I flexed my now clammy hands. “Where did you get this?” This was too much. He’d made the effort to get this video to use against me, and on top of that, he’d watched it. He’d probably watched every second of it.