Chapter 3
3
E xpensive cologne and pan-seared lamb fill my nostrils, making my stomach twist with unease. A thick cloud of tension hangs over the dining room, heavy with anger and grief, a jarring contrast to the opulent chandelier, china, and formal wear.
Then there’s the sheer number of men crowded around the circular table. Some didn’t appreciate our late arrival—especially Sebastian’s father, whose palpable anger struck the instant Liam and I sat down.
Once again, my plate sits untouched, though I’m already on my third glass of wine. The buzz is a welcome escape from this wretched dinner. Conversation fills the room as I take another sip of the bitter red. Liam’s brow furrows, but to his credit, he doesn’t pry the glass from my hand.
A small mercy, since the wine is the only thing making this night bearable.
I’m doing everything I can to avoid glancing at the empty seat where Sebastian should be. Instead, Mr. Stone sits there, his sole purpose to glare at me, it seems. But it’s not his presence that makes me guard my gaze. I can’t bring myself to look that way, because every time I do, I expect to see Sebastian.
Memories of past dinners wind around my neck, cinching tighter whenever someone mentions the plane crash. I take another sip of wine, the spiced oak and cherry notes carrying me adrift on a deceptively calm sea.
“The queen shouldn’t have been in Los Angeles to begin with,” says Pax Monroe’s father, a severe looking man with raven hair and an angular face of hard lines. “If Castle hadn’t stolen time from the House of Libra, my son would have trained her. She’d know her place is here in this tower, serving our boys, not off playing dressmaker .”
“You’re absolutely right.” Mr. Stone’s cold indigo eyes settle on me. “Had she been properly trained, the stupid girl would know her place.”
“And where is my place ?” I ask, boldly returning his hostile gaze. “On my knees in the dungeon?”
“Novalee.” Liam covers my hand, his gesture a warning, but I shrug him off.
“He started this.” I point at Sebastian’s father. “So let him finish it.”
Mr. Stone huffs, thick with disdain. “Better on your knees than gallivanting around the globe. Actions have consequences, little girl. If not for your disgrace, my son would still be alive.”
His words slam into me like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs.
Elise gasps, her face flushed with fiery indignation. She’s sitting beside Landon, who places a hand on her arm, calming her as he turns the heat on himself.
“You’re out of line, Mr. Stone,” he says, jaw clenched in a struggle for composure.
“I don’t believe I am. She’s the reason Sebastian and Tatum were in the States, which makes her responsible. The fact is, you boys indulge her.” Mr. Stone glances around the table, slowly taking in each house.
Everyone is here tonight, except Ford, who is missing in action.
“I say it’s time she goes through proper training,” Mr. Stone continues. “Before she engages in more reckless behavior.”
“What do you propose?” Mr. Monroe asks.
“Well, your son could give her a good flogging. That would be an appropriate starting point.”
“Like hell,” Liam growls. “No one’s laying a finger on her.”
“You say that as if you have the power to stop it,” Mr. Stone fires back.
“That’s enough.” Liam’s father shifts in his chair, the light above casting a glow over his coppery hair, its richness muted with gray. He clears his throat. “This isn’t helping anyone.”
“Castle’s right,” Mr. Harding says from the House of Sagittarius. “Our boys wouldn’t want us pointing fingers. What happened wasn’t the queen’s fault. It wasn’t Tatum’s or Sebastian’s, either. They were honorable men trying to do the right thing by her.”
“The right thing?” Mr. Stone sneers. “Such as parading her virginity in front of a roomful of men? By the grace of Evangeline and the Original Twelve, our queen is still pure, and she must remain that way until after the auction.”
His eyes lock onto mine, intensifying to a midnight blue that sends a chill down my spine. “Enjoy your last night in the House of Aries,” he says, tone sharp as a blade. “Because things are about to change in this tower.”
I’m on my feet before I can think it through, apprehension and guilt warring over the pieces of my heart. In my haste to escape both, I topple my chair. It’s a horrid ruckus, just like the words spoken so cruelly around the table.
Like the chaos in my head.
“Novalee?” Liam stands as well. “What are you doing?”
Instead of answering, I turn on my heel and flee. Liam calls after me, but the alarm in his tone hardly registers as I rush out of the dining room, driven by Mr. Stone’s threats and accusations.
The portrait of Evangeline Castle haunts me down the hall, but I ignore her eerie face and stab the button for the elevator. Hysteria is close to pulling me under as the doors slide open, ushering me into private solitude. Blindly, I hit the button for the penthouse floor, then blink back tears as the car carries me upward. The ride makes me nauseous, my stomach churning with too much wine, and I swallow vomit as the elevator stops.
The doors slide open, and three people stumble inside, laughing and reeking of alcohol. In the hall, techno music blares from the open doors of the House of Scorpio. I’m not sure why I do it, but right as the elevator is about to close, I stick my hand out and escape into the hallway.
I’m not thinking straight as I enter Ford Stryker’s house. The living room is a wild tangle of half-naked bodies, every piece of furniture claimed by some form of debauchery. Sweat, smoke, and alcohol taint the air as I navigate through the writhing crowd.
A beer bottle topples at my feet, and I stop to scan the room, my gaze landing on a girl draped across a couch. Her head hangs off one end, creating the perfect angle for a guy to use her mouth. Another man kneels with his head buried between her thighs as she moans around the girth of the other guy’s cock. The sight slams into me, dredging up a memory, and icy fear surges through my veins.
Axel .
The past crashes into my consciousness, as loud as the pulsating music in Ford’s great room. My heart pounds faster, breaths uneven and shallow. I brace a hand against the wall for stability, but the flashback is relentless.
I remember being weightless in Axel’s arms, my limbs too heavy to fight as he carried me down a dim hallway. Most of that night is hazy, but one image cuts through the fog…an open door to a shadowy room, where three figures lay tangled on the couch in a whirl of sex and drugs.
That fleeting glimpse sears into my mind, followed by the horror of my attacker taking me into the next room. After that…
Forceful hands.
Terror.
Darkness.
I shove the flashback into the deepest corner of my mind and look for Ford, needing the presence of someone safe and familiar before I start hyperventilating.
But he’s nowhere to be found.
Desperate to stifle the panic, I snatch up a half-empty bottle from the table and take a long swig, the bite of alcohol stinging my nose.
“Ford?” I call out over the music. No one hears me. No one cares. Clutching the bottle tighter, I stagger through the smoke and bodies, my vision blurring from booze and the threat of tears. His bedroom door stands wide open at the end of the hall. I stumble toward it, full of anxiety as I reach the threshold.
Ford is sprawled on a sofa, his shirt unbuttoned, knees spread as a petite brunette crouches between them. Her head bobs a constant rhythm in his lap, but he’s unmoving, his expression dazed. Does he even realize what’s happening below the belt? Or is he too far gone to grasp the situation?
As I watch the woman exploit his intoxication, a surge of fury rises in me. Setting the liquor bottle down on a table, I step forward and grip her long brown hair, twisting hard enough to pull a yelp from her.
“Get out,” I say, tone jagged like a serrated blade.
“What the hell?” She stares at me with wide, startled eyes. “Who do you think you are?”
“I’m the queen of this God-forsaken tower.” Releasing her hair, I give her a dismissive look. “And you are leaving .”
She hesitates, eyes narrowing as if she might challenge me. But then, with a frown of uncertainty, she scrambles to her feet, and I barely notice the door slamming upon her hasty exit.
“Baby girl?” Ford squints at me. “Are you really here, or am I that high?”
“You’re beyond high, but I’m really here.”
“But why are you here?”
“I don’t know.”
He crooks a finger. “C’mere.”
Driven by the buzz coursing through my veins, I let him pull me onto his lap. His chest is solid and hot against mine. I inch back and run my palms over his feverish skin. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve been better.”
He doesn’t ask if I’m okay. It’s obvious that neither of us are. Instead, he wraps his arms around me. “Sorry about the hard-on. Can’t really control it when you’re sitting on me like this.”
“It’s okay.” I bury my face in his shoulder, inhaling his scent and finding a calming wave of relief. With him, there are no expectations or complicated histories. No pressure for something I can’t give.
Ford is just here , warm and in the flesh, offering refuge when such a gift is scarce in this tower. He cares about me…but he isn’t in love with me.
Not like Liam is.
And I find freedom in that.
I nestle as close as possible, seeking comfort in Ford’s presence. My head is fuzzy as my hands wander over his abs, tracing the ridges of muscle and smooth skin. When I graze the open fly of his jeans, his body goes taut.
“What are you doing?”
I’m not sure what I’m doing. I only know I crave closeness and connection—a way to drive away the hollowness inside me. Grief and impaired judgment collide, thrusting me into a dizzying headspace of desperation and impulsive decisions. Shifting, I let my hand drift lower, and Ford sucks in a ragged breath.
“Novalee,” he warns, his fingers digging into my hips. “We can’t do this.”
“Why not?” I trail my thumb over the head of his cock, drawing a strangled moan from him.
He grabs my wrist. “Damn, baby girl. You have to stop.”
“Don’t you want me?”
“Of course I want you, but we’ll be in a shitload of trouble if we’re caught.”
“You don’t want to bid in the auction anyway, so why does it matter?”
“Forget the auction. I don’t want to get my ass whooped for touching you. Besides…” He lets a beat pass, his glassy hazel eyes boring into me. “It won’t take away the pain. Deep down, you know that.”
His words drown me in a tsunami of renewed grief, and I climb off his lap. Before I’m able to pull away completely, he settles me on the couch beside him. Charged silence hovers over us, the seconds taking up a full minute.
“Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?” he finally asks.
With a sigh, I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes. “I just want to wake up from this nightmare.”
“I wish you could.” He winds an arm around me, tucking me against his side. “I really do. But that still doesn’t tell me why you’re here .”
“I didn’t want to be alone, but I didn’t want to be in that dining room either.” I pause. “Liam wouldn’t let me skip it. You’re lucky you weren’t there.”
“I thought about going. Everyone expected me to, but I didn’t want to face them…or you.”
“Me?” I lift my head, eyes squinting in confusion. “Why?”
“If I hadn’t flaunted your virginity in front of Axel, he wouldn’t have hurt you. And Sebastian and Tatum…” His throat works hard, thick with emotion. “They’d still be here.”
My breath stalls, and the guilt gnawing at me finds an echo in Ford’s confession, binding us in remorseful unity. I grab his jaw and turn his face until our eyes meet.
“It’s not your fault,” I say, voice cracking. “It’s mine.”
“You know it’s not.” He shakes his head. “He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”
The way he says it, gentle yet confident, breaks me open. The tears I’ve been harboring all night escape down my cheeks in unstoppable rivulets. I choke out a sob as his arms come around me.
“I know it seems impossible,” Ford whispers, his words warm against my ear, “but you’ll get through this.”
“I don’t want to get through this. I want him back.”
He tightens his hold. “I know, baby girl.”
It’s not fair. First, fate stole my parents from the sky, tearing them away in a flash of fire and wreckage. And now, it’s taken him too.
Acceptance threatens to drag me into an even deeper state of despair, so I cling to the only thing I can.
Searing need.
The promise of escape.
Beautiful oblivion.
I need it more than the air in my lungs. More than the sunrise tomorrow or the crash of waves against the shore. There’s only one thing I need more than life itself, and he’s not here.
But Ford is, and he’s more than capable of making me forget, if only for a while. Letting out a stuttering sigh, I press my lips to his and silently beg him not to reject me again.
For five long seconds, he freezes, then his mouth is moving against mine.
Soft yet firm.
Both gentle and persistent.
Promising exactly what I need.
Whatever held him back before is gone. Raw hunger drives him now, his tongue savage as he deepens the kiss.
Endless moments pass before he inches back, fingers threading through my short locks. “What do you need from me, Novalee?
“Whatever you can give. Just…take it all away for a while.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Ford settles me on my back, and I almost expect panic to take over, putting a stop to this before it begins. But the weight of his body isn’t suffocating. Instead, it’s the strength that grounds me in a place where pain and fear reign.
“I’ve wanted you for so long.” His quiet voice amplifies the confession.
“Then why didn’t you do something about it, when you had the chance?”
He searches my face, hesitation tugging at the corners of his eyes. “You made me rethink things I wrote off once I understood how the system works.”
“What kinds of things?”
“Monogamy. You almost made me reconsider my views on it.”
“Almost?”
“I’ll always be a fuckboy, baby girl.”
I cradle his cheek, taking in his sad, intoxicated stare. “You’re more than that.”
A tease of a smile, then his lips trail down my neck, igniting every nerve in their path. He bites lightly through the silk bodice, teeth closing over a stiffened peak, and I fail to breathe as his hand glides up my thigh, fingers skimming the edge of my panties.
“Don’t stop,” I plead, tilting my hips toward him.
As he slips a finger under the hem, the door to his bedroom bursts open, and I find the silhouette of Liam, towering on the threshold like a sentinel.