Chapter Five
Romy
W hy does it secretly please me that Dad and Caius don’t seem to like each other?
I’ve always enjoyed making Dad uncomfortable, and shaking up Caius’s world is my only entertainment these days. I just didn’t expect to find so much joy in being able to do it at the same time.
Dad, as per usual, is being a prick. Eva, the saint she is, takes it in stride, shrugging off his rudeness as if it’s nothing more than an errant hair that needs removing. He’s always controlling and clipped when it comes to me. And Caius, used to being the bigger asshole in any room, gets prickly at anything Dad says or does. It’s highly amusing. If only Bastian or Theo were here to share my fun with.
It’s not lost on me that Theo has stepped into the role of big brother for me. Sure, I’m using Theo’s attraction toward me to make sure I have some semblance of an ally in this Crowne game I’m a pawn in, but his friendship is real. He’s not Gareth or Caius, used to playing these games. It’s clearly not in his DNA to do so.
“Supper is ready anytime you all are,” Eva interjects when Dad and Caius have another glaring match. “Why don’t we migrate to the dining room? I’ll let Rosie know.”
Eva elegantly rushes from the room, eager to escape the testosterone war going on right now. Clearly, she’s not as entertained as I am.
“This weekend, I’ll be unable to meet for supper as I have a previously committed to engagement,” Dad says. “One doesn’t cancel on the president.”
“Wait? Like the President of the United States?” I ask, unable to hide my shock.
Dad’s nostrils flare. “Indeed. He’s the honorary guest for the event.”
I’ve met tons of celebrities, politicians, and even a few world leaders because of Dad’s connections. But the president? That’s a new one for me. Based on Caius’s barely lifted eyebrows, it’s something new for him too.
In fact…
He has the same determined glint in his eyes as when Solomon invited him onto his yacht.
“The great Dr. Alexander Huxley,” Caius says, voice turning from gruff to charming. “I’ve heard a lot about his humanitarian work from before his days in politics. Have you read any of his books?”
Dad and Caius discuss the many books and journals Dr. Huxley wrote with shared enthusiasm, ignoring me completely as we head for the dining room. Caius shows a flash of gentlemanly attention my way long enough to pull my chair out before sliding back into conversation with my father. Now that they mention it, I clearly remember seeing many of Dr. Huxley’s books in Caius’s office. He had a whole slew of them.
Why didn’t I read some of those books when I’d stumbled on them?
I’m suddenly wishing I’d have taken my phone back from Caius. I wouldn’t mind doing a deep dive on our president right about now. If Dad and Caius both care about the subject, I feel as if I should be well-versed as well so I can survive in either of their worlds. Not that Dad would ever allow for me to scroll my phone at the dinner table.
God, I really miss college. Life was simpler before I met Megan and everything got monumentally screwed up. I had freedom from the chains of my real life and had yet been dragged into the captivity of the Crownes.
Eva and Rosie are near the doorway, discussing wine options to go with dinner. I could excuse myself and do a quick hunt in my bedroom so long as they didn’t turn it into a workout room or something.
“Excuse me,” I say quickly. “I need to use the restroom. Be right back.”
Neither man spares me a glance. I hurry out of the dining room and then down the hall to my bedroom. Relief floods through me when I push through the door and see everything exactly as I’d left it. Well, not exactly since I took anything that meant something to me off to college, but my furniture, decorations, and even some clothes remain. Most importantly, my desk and computer are right where I left them.
The closet sits ajar and I purposefully ignore the call of it. Even after the nightmares stopped, I still found comfort in that closet. In fact, I cried for a bit in that very closet days before I was set to leave for California. I’d been nervous and afraid of the unknown. The closet was just…safe.
I make it to my desk and after a little wiggling of the mouse, the screen comes to life. After signing in, I whip open the internet browser. I’m tempted to check my emails—the real inbox and not the spoof one they put on my phone—but decide this takes precedence.
Finding information on Dr. Huxley isn’t difficult. He’s the president, after all. But I’m not concerned with his biography or his achievements. I want to know how he’s connected to both my father and the Crownes. Caius, from all appearances, seems to be a fan, not a friend. However, he’s also a liar. He could be acting dumb, trying to get my father to spill information. Or is he truly interested in the man?
It’s not difficult to find my father’s connection to him. Dad is pretty much the king of television and news media. A politician like Dr. Huxley would be on the news often. Their circles would easily run together. In fact, Dad’s probably attended many events over his lifetime where Dr. Huxley was also in attendance.
But the Crownes?
How do the men behind the Crowne Unity Project tie in with the President of the United States?
My search doesn’t yield anything telling right away. I’ll have to continue the search later. I’m about to close out the search window when I feel a presence looming behind me.
The closet.
First instinct is to scramble over there.
With a barely suppressed mewl, I spin in my chair, eyes on the ajar closet door. I nearly trip over my feet in my effort to rush over to it. Before I make it, a large form stops me and grabs me by the biceps. I’m jerked a few times, hard and insistent, until I snap out of the fear clawing at me from the inside out.
Dark eyes.
Familiar.
Safe.
Caius.
All tension floods out of me and my knees buckle. He has to catch me before I collapse to the floor. I’m brought to his chest, where I inhale his manly scent and take solace in his arms.
“Romy,” Caius practically growls. “What the hell just happened?”
I don’t particularly care if he knows I was looking up Dr. Huxley. What I do care about is him seeing the terror I bury deep inside me. Maybe if I just cling to him forever, I’ll never be forced to answer his question.
“Romy.”
The irritation in his tone has increased, but it doesn’t scare me. This man has done awful things to me and yet I’m not truly afraid of him. Not like…
“Ro-laaaaaaa.”
No. Don’t think about—
“Romy.”
Hard fingers bite into my jaw, twisting and angling until my head is forced to look up at him. Him. Caius. Not the monster. Deep brown eyes flare with fury fissured with concern. Concern? He’s worried. Since when does Caius Crowne worry about me?
Since he murdered his own brother for you…
For his secret. For Calista.
No, dummy. For you.
My eyes flutter as the past comes roaring in. Memories, real and palpable, slice through my mind, cutting the bindings of suppression. Years of therapy, force-fed down my throat, is purged in an instant.Heels clicking on the hardwood floor as I desperately hold my breath so she doesn’t find me. The relief of her disappearing after what feels like hours of her searching. Overwhelming sleepiness as I crawl back into bed.
Then, peek-a-boo, I found you!
Dread. Horror. Disgust. Pain.
I remember the way her fingernails would probe and push into places they didn’t belong. The silent tears. The hatred for her doing it and for me for allowing it to happen. The scent of her perfume clinging to my sweaty nightgown afterward. The blood that would sometimes get left behind.
Shame overshadows the fear.
Why didn’t I run? Why didn’t I fight back? Why didn’t I tell anyone?
But I did tell someone.
They did nothing.
My memories are murky after that. There’s a void and then my memories tell me it was all a fabrication. Something I made up. This monster—this woman—didn’t exist. It was a nightmare. A childish dream. Medicine helped rid my mind of her, which I was happy to have. Therapy retrained my mind into thinking it didn’t happen. Eva came along, with her gentle, sweet nature, and looked after me without hurting me like the monster had.
And now that monster is back in my life.
A smack to my cheek jolts me from my racing thoughts. The monster is gone and in its place is Caius. Concern is the only emotion on his face now. His thumb swipes through the wetness on my cheek as I choke on a sob. I’m suddenly struck with the need to confront my father.
I untangle myself from Caius’s hold and take off out of my room before I lose my nerve. The scent of savory garlic chicken floods my nostrils. It’s one of Eva’s favorite meals, so Rosie makes it for our family often. By the time I’ve reached the dining room, the food has been plated and served. Rosie is back in the kitchen while Eva and Dad quietly eat without us. I rush over to Dad’s side and slam my fist down on the table beside his wineglass.
The utter look of surprise on his features would be comical if not for the rage and betrayal exploding through me.
“You lied to me,” I hiss, more tears welling in my eyes. “How could you do that, Dad? I was six years old!”
He quickly morphs his features into a fierce one. “Sit down, young lady. You will not speak to me this way in my own home.”
Is he serious right now?
“No,” I shout, voice quaking. “We’re not shoving this under the rug again. I remember what happened. It wasn’t a stupid dream, Dad.”
I hear Eva trying to soothe some calm into me, but I ignore her completely. She was nothing more than a prop to help me cope. I’m disgusted she still stays with him now that I’m no longer living in their home.
Caius stands close behind me, but he doesn’t intervene. He’s probably enjoying the total collapse of my sanity right now.
“Are you taking your medication?” Dad asks in a sharp tone. “Do we need to call Maura? Eva, call M—”
I whip around to jab a finger at my poor stepmother. “Do. Not. Call. That. Woman.”
She freezes, eyes darting between me and Dad, clearly unsure what to do. I save her from his wrath, drawing his attention back to me.
“Why did you make me think I was crazy?” I demand, bottom lip wobbling. “I wasn’t crazy. It happened. Many, many times.”
Dad’s nostrils flare and then a look of resignation passes over him. “I didn’t make you think anything, Romy. I was trying to help you.”
I shrink back, nearly stumbling if it weren’t for Caius hooking an arm around my waist.
“Help?” I choke out, disgusted. “It didn’t help. If anything, it made things worse.”
Dad shoves his plate away and tosses his napkin onto it. “This is hardly a topic for dinner.”
“I don’t fucking care!” I bellow. “May as well get it all out in the open now!”
Caius doesn’t urge me to calm down, which strangely endears me to him. All my life I’ve been told to sit down, shut up, and remember the good things. If I bucked against my father in any way, I was guilted or shamed until I fell back in line. And if I had the audacity to keep pushing on the pain of what happened to me, it was more therapy and more meds. He made sure I was brainwashed and drugged so I’d leave it alone.
Why, though?
She was nothing to our family. A glorified, overly paid babysitter.
“Do you feel better knowing?” Dad challenges as he rises to his feet. “I was saving you from a lifetime of emotional outbursts like this one.”
“Saving me?” I say with a huff. “Dad, you gaslit me my entire life into thinking my nanny didn’t molest me!”