17. Fiona
Chapter 17
Fiona
“All the signs were there. Why couldn’t I just read them?” I sit in my car in the driveway of Rosalee’s bungalow, bawling to her on the phone since she’s in San Diego, scoping out condos.
“Are you sure he was lying to you?”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Of course I do.”
I sigh. “He thought I was stealing money for Edgar. After everything we’ve been through, and everything I confided to him, he thought I was the bad guy. He was just using me.” Another sob tears from my chest.
“Oh honey. I’m so sorry I’m not there.”
“It’s not your fault.” I sniffle and wipe my nose. “How can I show my face at work ever again? I’m so humiliated.”
“Go in there and demand an apology. Take back the power and own it.”
“I didn’t even want to like him. Why did he make me like him?”
“I’m proud of you for putting yourself out there. I know how hard it is. Take the time to grieve, okay? He’s just a man.” I smirk and swipe at my face. Someone speaks in the background. “The realtor just showed up. Can I call you back tonight?”
“Yeah,” I mumble.
“Go inside and take a bath. Pour yourself a cup of hot tea. I just bought more of the lemon chamomile.”
“Okay.”
“I love you. This too shall pass.”
I hang up with a sigh and drag myself inside. I turn on the kettle and lean against the counter to take off my shoes, pausing when a black SUV pulls into the driveway. My heart races, wondering if Clay followed me home. The idea of him groveling is appealing, but I can’t face him right now. I check my phone, but there’s nothing from him. Only the strange text from earlier stares up at me.
I can’t wait to hold you in my arms again.
It’s got to be a wrong number. Frowning, I fling open the front door and my tongue lashing dies in a harsh gasp when a large stranger fills the doorway.
The man grabs me around the middle, slamming his meaty palm over my mouth as my muffled cries try to escape. I kick and squirm, but his grip is ironclad. He drags me into the house and the door shuts behind him.
He spins and my eyes widen as we face a man I never thought I’d see again.
“Don’t hurt her,” Raf says to my captor before he addresses me. “He’s going to remove his hand, and you’re going to stay quiet, right?”
I blink a few times, then nod and the man drops his hand. I swallow hard as I wrack my brain for a way to escape.
Raf drags his hand through my hair and smiles. “I like what you’ve done to your hair.”
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I snarl and he drops his hand with a frown.
“I see you’re still angry with me.”
“What do you want?”
“I’m here to bring you back to your father. Things have changed since you left.”
“I didn’t leave. He kicked me out.”
“And he regrets it. Didn’t you get my texts?”
A humorless laugh bubbles up my throat. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Take her to the sofa,” Raf says. The man obeys, plopping me down like a sack of potatoes before he stands at parade rest by the door.
The wicker coffee table creeks as Raf sits in front of me. I fall into old habits as I clasp my hands together on my knees and stare at them. It’s the submissive position Raf liked best, and I cringe.
“At least you haven’t lost all of your manners.” He tilts my chin up with his thumb and forefinger and I glare back at him.
“And that fire inside you burns brighter than ever.”
I yank my chin from his grasp, but he grips my upper arm, his gaze turning hard. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Come home with me and your father will forgive you.”
“I did nothing wrong.”
He smiles. “This is a pardon for your crimes. Not an absolution.”
“Do you hear how insane you sound? Do you have any idea what the church is, or do you buy into their bullshit?”
He presses his lips together. “I’ve worked for your father for too long for my opinion on the church to matter.”
“You’re a fucking coward.”
His grip tightens.
“You deserve whatever my father does to you when you come home empty-handed.”
He frowns, and my spine stiffens. “You will comply.”
I wince at the all too familiar and terrifying phrase that means pain comes next. It’s like a Pavlovian response, but instead of salivating, fear takes over.
He straddles my lap and pulls a knife from a sheath at his calf, dragging the flat of the blade across my cheek. A traitorous tear drips down my face. He uses the blade to flick it away, and I wince.
“Your father is rewarding me for my decades of service. Our wedding is on Saturday.”
My eyes widen, and his smile grows.
“You don’t understand now, but one day you will. I’ll make you so happy. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. All you have to do is comply.”
He waits for my response. It would take one simple nod of my head and I could avoid the pain. It’s how he groomed me when I was young.
“Go fuck yourself, you sadistic pig.” I spit in his face, but he doesn’t flinch.
He grabs the back of my head and circles my nipple with the tip of the blade. “Marissa blackmailed me into sleeping with her. She wanted you to catch us.”
I stay silent and bite my lip to keep from crying out when he yanks my hair and tilts my head back, exposing my neck.
“After you left, she threatened to go to your father, but I beat her to it. Imagine her surprise when Lawrence sided with me. She’s gone now, so there’s nothing standing in our way. You have every right to hate me, but I never wanted her. It’s only ever been you, my pet. I’ve missed you so much.”
His voice falters, and actual moisture builds in his eyes.
“It was never you.”
His face morphs into anger, and he slices my shoulder. My hand covers the wound on instinct and blood seeps between my fingers. He uses my shirt to wipe the blade clean. “Don’t worry, your wedding dress will cover the wound.”
I sob escapes me, and his eyes soften. “I don’t enjoy doing this to you, but you give me no choice. This pain is self-inflicted. You’re standing in the way of your own happiness.”
I suck in a breath through my teeth as my shoulder throbs. “Keep telling yourself that.”
He grabs my throat, and I cry out as he stands over me. He slams his lips to mine and I’m powerless to stop him.
“I’m a patient man, Fiona. I’m also generous. You have forty-eight hours to come to terms with your new reality and say goodbye to your cousin. You can say goodbye to your new boyfriend too while you’re at it.”
My eyes widen, and he grins. “Did you expect me to leave you alone? That’s adorable. I have eyes wherever you go. There’s no place you can hide, so don’t get any ideas about running. It will only prolong your punishment. If you value his life, end it with him tonight.”
He drops his hand and I stare at him in disbelief. “You will put in your resignation at Reilly Tech tomorrow. As my wife, you will never need a job.”
It’s not the arranged marriage or the threat against Clay that does it. Been there, done that, and Clay can take care of himself. It’s the threat of losing the only thing that has been mine that sends me into a blind rage. I rush him with a mindless scream.
My sudden movement startles him, and he falls backwards over the coffee table. I land on top of him, punching and slapping and screaming my outrage. He struggles under my onslaught and my eye catches on the blade he dropped nearby. I grab the hilt with the blade facing downwards and aim for his eye socket.
He grabs my wrist at the last second, the blade less than an inch from his eyeball. He grins at me and twists my arm at an awkward angle. I scream as pain shoots up my arm, and the knife drops to the ground.
He softens his grip and brings both of my wrists behind me as I straddle him, my chest heaving with adrenaline. Raf smiles, holding both of my hands behind me with only one of his and he grabs my throat. “We are going to have so much fun,” he whispers.
Raf nods at his man, and he leaves through the front door. The guy didn’t even budge when I attacked.
He lets go of me and dumps me on the couch, bending to tuck the knife back in the sheath. “You’ve impressed me, so I will not punish you for attacking me. But if you ever do it again, there will be severe consequences. Do you understand?”
I sniffle and nod, and he pauses at the door. “Forty-eight hours, Fiona, and not a minute later. I’ll come for you.” He shuts the door behind him and I stare at the empty space. The SUV rumbles to life and backs out of the driveway.
The sobs flow out of me, wave after wave. I should have known this was coming. I should have known I’d never escape this life.
A knock on the door startles me. I wipe my face, hating myself for jumping to answer just in case it’s Raf. His hold on me has already tightened.
I open the door and my body sags against it when Clay greets me with a charming smile, holding a gorgeous bouquet of purple and blue flowers. His smile slips when he sees my face, and it hardens when he sees the blood soaking my shirt.
“It’s not a good time,” I whisper as he pushes his way past me. He holds my arm and frowns at my wound.
“What happened?”
Too exhausted to fight him, I shut the door and pull away from him. I lay on the couch and let the tears fall. None of it matters. None of it ever did. My life will always be an illusion I’ll never be able to see through. I’ll never—
“You better start fucking talking,” Clay snaps, appearing from the kitchen with paper towels. He peels my shirt away and shoves his hand into the collar, holding the towels against the wound.
God, his eyes are so pretty. I drink them in, knowing it will be the last time I ever see them.
“There’s nothing you can do. It’s over.”
He sighs. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like you to give up after one fight.”
I blink at him in confusion until I remember our fight from earlier. Was that only a few hours ago? It feels like a lifetime. I swallow hard and sit up.
“What happened to your shoulder, Fiona?” he asks.
I sit up, staring at the bouquet he discarded on the coffee table. Nobody has ever bought me flowers.
“At least let me help you clean it up?”
I nod, lifting my arms up as he pulls my ruined blouse over my head. He takes my hand and guides me down the hall and into the bathroom. I squint when he flips on the light. He grabs a clean washcloth and soap and I sit on the toilet lid, pulling the bra strap aside so he has better access. Once it's clean, he dabs alcohol over the wound, but I don’t register the pain.
Something catches his eye on the glass shower door behind me and he stills. He pulls my good shoulder forward to look at my back and I curse, shoving his hands away.
“Do I need stitches?” I ask.
He stares at me, his face unreadable, but the air in the room seems to thicken. “Who did this to you?” he says, his voice deep and slightly terrifying.
“They’re just old scars.”
“Old scars that look like knife wounds. Exactly like the fresh one on your shoulder.” He stands and brings me to my feet, spinning me to inspect my past, and my future, too.
“There’s nothing you can do,” I whisper.
He spins me to face him again, taking my face in his gentle hands. “Fiona. Tell me who did this to you. Now.”
The hair on my arms stands up, and I rub them. “Why does it matter?”
“Damnit Fiona, I’m trying to protect you.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
He drops his hands and backs up a step. “Of course you didn’t. Hell would freeze over before you asked anyone for anything. I don’t care how stubborn you are. I’m stubborn, too. Tell me who attacked you.”
My lip quivers. I hate the way he sees right through me, like he knows me somehow.
“You’re already too close to this and I won’t risk you getting hurt, or worse, because of me. Leave me alone, Clay.”
“Like hell.”
“Clay, please. Trust me. I’m protecting you, too.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. Like he has any right to be exasperated right now. He drops his hand, and my body freezes when he meets my gaze. His eyes seem to glow, but it must be a trick of the light.
“You don’t need to protect me. I know who your father works for.”
My blood runs cold. The only way he’d know that is if he was in the church, too. “What aren’t you telling me?”
If he works for my father, I won’t be able to trust anything ever again.