Chapter 20
Fiona
A weird feeling of déjà vu swept through me as Bash drove me to his parents’ house the morning after Jackson stopped by my apartment.
The only difference that time was that I was the one who called the meeting.
Pushing all thoughts of Jackson and my past aside, I prepared myself for the tough conversation ahead of me.
Entering the house, once again, only Reaper and Guard were there, and a heavy quiet weighed down the space.
Anxiety racked me, so I skipped formal greetings and started pulling out my computer and the notebooks I had been working on.
By the time I had finished, I had covered most of the available surface space.
“The money issues are originating from the strip club,” I said, and the men frowned. Over the next few hours, I walked the three through what I had found, showing them the receipts and invoices, the document I had put together, detailing all of the suspicious withdrawals.
“Any idea who would be able to pull this off?” Guard asked Bash, as Reaper remained suspiciously quiet.
“Not yet. I have to think about it more, go through all the operations there. The person responsible for the upcharges during the VIP parties would have to be someone very familiar with the bottle inventory, like Ginger or one of the other bar managers. That doesn’t explain the $9,000 going to that account—the one Fee said she couldn’t find any info on, so I’m thinking it’s a shell corp,” Bash answered, leaning back in his chair, the look in his eyes unreadable.
The mood was tense, the air heavy as all three men fairly vibrated with anger.
I knew they weren’t upset with me, but couldn’t help but feel a bit responsible.
I had confirmed their fears that someone was stealing from the club.
It was irrational because I had done what they asked of me, but I wished I had been able to hand them the culprit and all of the evidence to take them down, tied up in a nice bow.
Without that person, they had nowhere to place their rage, no one to punish for the betrayal.
The three looked at each other and seemed to communicate quietly.
Obviously having come to an agreement, they thanked me for the work I had done and said they needed to look it all over and discuss next steps.
Once back in the car, silence lapsed as Bash digested the fact that someone was stealing from the club—someone they trusted with one of their biggest businesses.
The MC worked hard to create a safe environment at the strip clubs they owned, with a focus on destigmatizing the taboo associated with them.
The club put the dancers’ comfort at top priority, and prided themselves on providing a clean and safe space for both the employees and patrons.
“Can we sleep at the house tonight?” Bash asked, finally breaking his silence and pulling the car onto the main road.
“Sure. Can we just stop at my apartment so I can grab some clothes? I’ll follow you in my car so I have it for Monday morning.” Bash grunted his assent and began the drive to my place.
Lost in my own thoughts, the ride was a blur. I kept flashing back, remembering what a terrifying sight the men made, their anger palpable. A moment of fear ran through me at the idea of what they would do to the person responsible and my part in handing them over to the club.
Shaking that off, I reminded myself of the facts, and that whoever was taking advantage of the club deserved retribution.
When we got up to my apartment, Bash plopped down onto my couch with a heavy sigh, dropping his head in his hands.
Hesitating, I eventually sat down next to him, placing my hand on his back.
“I’m sorry, honey. I wish I was able to find out more for you guys,” I said, and he looked at me, surprised.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have any idea how long this has been going on. I’m just pissed it took so much time for us to find out. So much money is already gone that could have helped with Seph’s Trail.”
“What do you mean? What is Seph’s Trail?” I frowned, confused.
Bash sighed, dropping his head back.
“Sorry, it’s club business. I shouldn’t have said anything,” he replied, in a tone I hadn’t heard before.
“Alright. Well, do you want something to eat or drink? I can make you something before I pack?” I offered.
“Nah. Just get your stuff so we can go home.” The way he said home made me feel both scared and elated at the same time.
We were spending increasingly more time at the house, and he easily referred to it as our home, not his.
It wasn’t something I had missed, but it scared me.
It felt fast, and in my experience, something that good never lasted.
In my bedroom, I packed up some clothes for the weekend, as well as an outfit for work on Monday.
I made my way around the space, packing my overnight bag.
Stepping out of the bathroom with some toiletries, I gave a little jump when I saw Bash leaning against my bedroom door.
He was staring at my duffle, a frown marring his face.
I had a few things I kept at his house, such as a toothbrush and a blow dryer.
Other than that, though, I had been shuttling my personal belongings back and forth each week.
It was slightly annoying, but I felt like it was fairly typical in relationships, and so far, we had managed the multiple locations with ease.
“Why don’t you just move in with me already? What are you waiting for?” Bash said casually, throwing me for a loop. I was genuinely surprised by the statement, feeling like it came out of left field. My mouth gaped open, doing a sad job of trying to form an answer.
“You never asked me. I mean, we haven’t talked about it…ever,” I sputtered, trying to wrap my head around his sudden proposal.
“Where did you think this was going, Fiona? Why are you so shocked right now?” he asked, an edge to his tone.
“This is the first time you’ve even mentioned it, and you’re acting like I’m somehow delaying the process when I didn’t even know that was something you already wanted!” I replied, my voice raising. I felt slightly hysterical.
Multiple thoughts ran through my head. I knew that it was a good thing.
He was asking me to move in. That meant he saw a future for our relationship—longevity.
Even as my rational brain knew that, my instinctual fight or flight kicked in.
Something that good couldn’t be real. There had to be a catch, something I was missing.
It was a trick, but I couldn’t see how, except for the fact that it all felt too soon.
“Okay, so I haven’t said it outloud, but are you telling me you haven’t noticed how much of the house you’ve been a part of?
Including you on all the decisions? I’m trying my best to make you feel comfortable there, to want to be there, but if you don’t, then tell me now.
” I stumbled backward, my hand going to my chest, feeling as if my heart was actually getting ripped out.
“I have noticed. The house is lovely. I just… I didn’t know. You never said.” I couldn’t get the words out.
“I didn’t say anything because I was trying to show you! When will it be enough? When will you trust me, Fiona? I’m trying to let you in. I’m literally holding my arms wide open and begging you to move forward with me, and you’re saying the idea of living together never crossed your mind?
“What would the next steps be, in your world? Spend the next five years living out of one drawer in each other’s houses?
How long is it going to take for you to trust me?
To let me in? Why do I have to pay for the sins of your parents?
” he yelled. I felt my throat close up, sobs threatening to break through.
“I don’t think you’re being fair here, Bash. This is all new to me. I’ve never done anything like this before, and I’m not a damn mind reader! I may not have experience with relationships, but I do believe in order to have a successful one, there needs to be communication.
“If you want me on board with something, you have to discuss it with me first, not just expect me to blindly accept your decree! I’m already trying to follow your lead here.
You’re the one with far more notches on your belt than I have, but I don’t have a road map for a relationship, and especially not for one with someone like you!
” I was getting frustrated, angry that he was upset with me for things we had never even discussed.
“Someone like me?” he said, his voice cold and distant.
“Yes! Someone like you, who’s used to barking orders and the only acceptable response being, ‘How high?’ Me, Bash. You, Fiona. Do as I say,” I mocked in a deep voice.
As the words were spewing out of my mouth, I felt slightly separated.
As much as I was fighting back, ready with a comeback for everything he said, it was to distract myself from the small girl deep inside of me, the embodiment of that last bit of hope I kept buried, hidden from the harsh reality of daylight.
While I was busy coming up with an argument against taking such a big step with Bash, she was twirling around inside the back of my mind, filled with glee.
He asked me to move in. He wants to live with me. We’re going to start a life together. Maybe he will love me.
Love. That was the part that ripped me from those whimsical thoughts, stopping me in my tracks.
All my experience with love had ended in pain.
I knew it wasn’t right to lump Bash into that group, but it didn’t invalidate my past, and the expectations it had set within me.
Was it so wrong to want to be sure, to remain cautious?