8. FATHER #2
“And I know you said you could come here… but it won’t work.” I looked at my father. He crossed his arms, his gaze unrelenting.
Vladimir shoved me again.
“There’s someone else…” I trailed off.
He drove his finger into my chest.
“She’s… right for me.” The words burned on the way out.
“You wouldn’t fit in here.” My nails bit into my palm.
“Just stay there. Live your life.” My voice almost broke, but somehow I managed to keep it flat.
“I’m sorry.” Everything in me strained against the next word.
“Goodbye, Ivy.”
Silence pressed in.
Vladimir snatched the phone, disconnecting the call as one side of his mouth twisted into an ugly grin.
“Delete all of his social media accounts and have his number changed,” Karlos instructed quietly.
I was unsteady, like the ground had shifted beneath me and sent me plunging.
“Vladimir,” Karlos snapped. “Take him to the car and have Gus drive him home.” He pressed the intercom again. “Lexi, freeze Karson’s accounts immediately, then see to it that Gus supervises any further purchases.”
I turned away. The sight of him made my stomach lurch. Dread filled my chest.
I wanted to collapse onto the marble floor beneath me, but Vladimir guided me to the elevator… down to the car waiting below.
***
Gus navigated the Range Rover through a maze of tunnels toward my new prison.
The blood drained from my face as I told him what had taken place inside. He flicked a glance at me in the mirror, his fingers tightening on the wheel like claws.
I just need them safe until I can come up with a plan.
The garage door opened silently. We drove in, It came down like a guillotine, cutting me off from the world…
I stumbled inside. Welcome to my cell.
The house was stunning, every detail carefully curated to impress. But all I could see was the ugliness beneath it.
I looked slowly around the room. I was trapped in luxury… shackled by deception.
My father’s words rang in my head as I gasped for air. I stormed outside, and kicked open the door to the gym, charging at the punching bag hanging from the ceiling.
I swung my right leg around, landing a roundhouse kick squarely into the heavy bag. Pulling my leg back, I quickly transitioned my stance.
With my bare fists, I swung upward, picturing my father’s sneering face, pounding the bag with a barrage of uppercuts until I couldn’t feel anything anymore.
I fell against the bag. Motionless. My lungs burned as I sucked in mouthfuls of air.
A hot trickle ran down my arm. I raised my clenched fists, examining my torn knuckles. Blood spilled over my hands, thick red droplets pooling on the rubber matting.
I stared at it blankly before dragging myself inside.
***
As I sagged into the plush velvet armchair in the living room, I searched for answers in the angry surf below, the thunderous waves mirroring my state of mind.
I stared, glassy-eyed, through the window as the sky turned from light to dark, a wash of vibrant color in between.
But even that seemed dull and gray.
I got up and stumbled down the long corridor to my room, throwing myself onto the king-size bed. All traces of warmth left my body.
I was cold. Heavy.
I’m so sorry Ivy. I wish we could be together. Please understand, I had to do it.
A lump formed in my throat. I was more alone now than ever. For most of my life, Dyson had been there to talk and laugh with. And even if he hadn’t been on a flight to San Francisco, I didn’t have the will to call him.
Karlos had taken it.
I have to fix this. And I’m going to get even—with the monster who called himself my father.
I drifted into a tumultuous sleep.
***
I lay face-down on the bed, stock-still, until I heard Gus shuffling about.
He urged me to take a shower and come downstairs. He wanted to tape my hand and suggested we have dinner together in the kitchen.
“You’ll get through this, my boy,” he said with a half-smile. “Just you wait and see.” He laid out a fresh set of clothes on the bed, then left.
We ate together in the kitchen, but I left my plate largely untouched.
“Thanks for dinner, Gus,” I said after a while. “I’m going to get an early night.”
Worry lined his face, but his eyes still brimmed with kindness. “Good night, mate. Things will look brighter in the morning.”
I seriously doubt that, I thought sourly, before returning to the solitude of my new room and locking the door behind me.
I sat, frozen in place, looking out over the water. Memories of the promises I’d made to Ivy echoed through my mind.
“I promise I’ll make sure we can be together, no matter what it takes.”
I still wanted to keep my promise, but how could she know that? A piece of my heart had torn away, leaving a gaping hole in its place.
If she’s listened to that horrific message, I can’t imagine what she thinks of me now.
When the cool air turned my skin cold to the touch, I moved back to the bed, retreating into a cocoon of memories from nights on board The Canoe.
Thoughts of us together played like a movie through my mind, sending a trickle of warmth through me. Surrendering to the memories was like a drug, dulling the sharp edge of everything.
As I pictured her letting down her hair, her face aglow on that last night, an ache of longing stirred low in my body. I saw her lips curl into a sensual smile.
A deep groan escaped me as the ache became impossible to ignore.
I gripped my erection, sliding my fist in slow, rhythmic strokes as my need for her built steadily.
Her hair tumbling in waves down her back flashed into my mind. The memory of the soft curve of her breasts in my hands—soft and responsive—and the slow brush of my tongue against her skin pulled me under.
My breath grew heavy as I closed my eyes, my head falling back.
Fragments of that night—our bodies twisting as one, the taste of her, our lips crushing together, and the way she melted into me—drew me deeper.
I moved my hand in urgent strokes, my grip tightening as heat surged toward release. I let out a moan as bittersweet waves of pleasure rolled through me, my body shuddering.
But the memory of the voicemail I’d left rose up and engulfed me, twisting any pleasure into something darker.
A sharp ache. A wound I couldn’t see.
I may never see her again.