21. Sian
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
SIAN
I t’s been a few days since the birthday party. I enjoyed the rest of evening, catching up with Rowan, who wasn’t acting like her usual self, but she kept assuring me she was fine. If anything is bothering her, she’ll tell me when she’s ready.
I can’t get Tate out of my mind. The way he took control over my body, worshipping me, was like nothing I’d ever felt before, and I never wanted it to end. I wanted to bask in his primal want for me forever and never come up for air. It was surreal and a complete contradiction to how people perceived him. He was rough, yet gentle. The way he needed reassurance that I was okay. It was everything I ever wanted and didn’t know I needed. Nothing and no one compares to Tate. There wasn’t even any doubt in my mind that it was too soon after what Daniel did to me. If anything, Tate helped me erase every bit of Daniel from my body and mind.
I’m scared it was all a dream, but the small and few encounters I’ve had with Tate tell me otherwise. The odd smirk when he’s talking to one of his men when I pass, the accidental brush of his body against mine in passing, the subtle glances my way across the dinner table when we sit down to eat. It’s all there. It was real. What Tate and I did is real. I haven’t stopped smiling since, and I continue smiling as I take a stroll through the estate.
I go from room to room, turning here and there. For a moment, I worry I won't find my way back. I’m still not used to finding my way around the estate.
I open the door to an indoor cinema and look at the huge screen across the wall. It must be so cool to watch something in here. I don't know how to start a movie, or I'd stay and watch something. Maybe there's a library. I remember Rick asking Tate’s father was he was reading over dinner one night. I could read a book.
I find an indoor swimming pool. How I’ve never found this room before now, I’ll never know. I doubt I'll remember where it is, but I can always ask Mary.
I finally open a door that leads to a huge library. I look around in wonder. There are shelves upon shelves of books. Some look older than others. The more modern books, surprisingly, look like they're higher up on the shelves. I’d need a ladder to reach them.
I turn around a corner and freeze. Mr. Matthews is sitting on a sofa at the side, reading a book. He looks up at me, and I nervously smile.
"Sorry, Mr. Matthews. I didn’t realize anyone would be here. I'll go."
"Not at all," Mr. Matthews says. "Please. Were you looking for something to read?"
I blush. "I didn't know what else to do with my time."
"Reading is an excellent way to pass the time, and to expand the mind. Please, feel free to pick some books." He gestures to the shelves.
I start to browse, acutely aware that his eyes are on me, studying me. When I glance at him, I see that same intense gaze his son has, only with Tate, there's something more behind those eyes.
Mr. Matthews has a gentler look. He’s someone I could sit with and ask a thousand questions. I scan the titles and jump slightly when he talks.
"How did you meet my son and wind up at my home?" He crosses his legs and sets his book down. “I know you’ve been here a while now, but I still don’t know why, and I feel my son is holding out on me.”
I blush again as he gestures to the sofa opposite him. I sit down and fidget slightly. I guess I owe him an explanation for his kindness towards me. "I was at his club. I saw something I wasn't supposed to and Tate hunted me down. When he found me, my ex-boyfriend had just..." I trail off.
“It’s okay. You can tell me. There will be no judgement.” He gives me his full attention.
“Well, he wasn’t a nice man, and that night, he forced… he took…” I can’t bring myself to say the words.
"Took advantage of you?" he offers, seeing my struggle.
I nod, biting back tears. "Tate called a doctor for me and then stayed with me for a couple of days while I slept off the worst of it."
"Do you want to talk about what happened to you?" he asks kindly. There's no pushing in his voice, just a gentle concern.
It's something I've seen in Tate on occasion.
"No, thank you. I'm still dealing with what happened. The bruises, the burns. It's a lot to heal from, physically and mentally."
"Your ex sounds like a piece of work," Mr. Matthews says with a sigh.
I get up and start to peruse the shelves again. "He is. He abused me for many years, but I never thought he would go that far. I never realized how evil he was. Before he arrived, I thought the most evil person I'd ever met was your son."
"Because you saw something you shouldn't have," Mr. Matthews says. It isn't a question.
I nod without looking at him. I assume he knows what I've seen, but if he's not going to bring it up, I'm not going to volunteer that information. He might be retired, so to speak, but he's still a dangerous man, and I don't need him getting ideas about how to protect Tate from my observations. I pull a book out and begin to read the blurb. I can feel Mr. Matthews watching me, and I feel uncomfortable. I put the book back and select another.
"You don't say his name," Mr. Matthews says nonchalantly.
"Who's name? Tate's?" I ask, glancing at him.
"Your ex. Does he have a name?” he questions, and it has me confused.
“Yes, of course he does.”
“Say it. You shouldn't fear saying his name. That gives him power. You should tell the world what he did and let them rain hell upon him, including my son.” He uncrosses and recrosses his legs.
I blush, and I can feel tears building in my eyes. I try to subtly wipe them away before pulling another book down. "I don't want to be a victim."
"Then choose not to be. Have your revenge. What's his name?" he asks.
I hesitate, knowing it could be a death sentence for Daniel, but isn't that what he deserves? A death sentence for what he put me through? Not only for the years of abuse during our relationship, but for the rape.
"Daniel. Daniel Gallagher." I whisper it, as though saying it out loud will summon him.
"Daniel who?" Mr. Matthews asks.
"Daniel Gallagher," I say a little louder. "What's weird is his parents, Weston and Meryl, are so nice. I don't know where he gets it from."
Tension rises in the air, and I don't know what I said to cause it. I pick a book and turn to him curiously. He’s staring at me, but it's as though he’s lost in thought. I've clearly outstayed my welcome here. I hold the book up. "I'll start with this one," I say quietly.
He nods but doesn't take his eyes off me. I slowly slink out of the library.