6. Vinnie
“Miss? We’re preparing for landing and the captain is about to put the seatbelt sign on. Is there anything you’d like before we land?”
A sweet stewardess named Brittany has been attentive since I sat down in her section of first class, seeing the tear-soaked rivers on my cheeks and the redness in my eyes. I know I look a mess—I had stepped into the ladies’ room prior to boarding and saw it myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to care or try to fix my face before getting onto the plane.
I feel like a ghost. Soulless and alone, an emptier shell than I was when I landed in San Francisco less than sixteen hours ago.
Going to Ridgewood had been a mistake. Seeing Sly—having those final moments with him—I’ll never forget. But I’m afraid I’ll never recover from the heartbreak of having to look him in the eye and be dishonest. Making him think I actually want to marry August makes me physically ill. I’ve been nauseous since I left his hospital room.
Where I should feel some peace with my decision, or at least like I’m doing the right thing by not telling him everything, I feel worse than ever.
Looking up at the stewardess through blurred, teary eyes, I give her a tight-lipped smile. “No. Thank you, Brittany, you’ve been wonderful.”
“It’s been my pleasure. We’ll be on the ground in twenty minutes, miss.”
She turns to face the passenger across from me, and I return my gaze to the open window. New York is coming into view, the skyscrapers sitting within a layer of white fluffy clouds, cutting into the vibrant blue sky.
It’s never felt less like home.
Having no luggage, I disembark the plane and move through LaGuardia with ease, bypassing baggage claim and making my way to arrivals. I sent a text to Ross earlier to let him know my landing time, so I’m unsurprised to see my black town car idling by the curb when I approach the automatic doors.
As I step out of the airport, I’m welcomed by warmth. It’s nothing like California, but still, the sun-kissed air settles against my skin and brings me a tiny sliver of comfort.
There’s a crossing guard standing next to the driver”s window, gesturing with frustration at the curb, and I know Ross hasn’t seen me yet.
“I’m here! Sorry!” I say to the angry worker as sweetly as I can, and he makes eye contact with me as I reach for the back passenger door. “We’ll be out of your way right now, don’t mind us!”
“It’s a no parking zo?—”
The shutting of my door cuts him off, but as soon as I’m tucked inside the car, I wish I was back out on the curb.
“Hello, Vinnie,” August greets. His body’s positioned so he’s turned toward me with his leg propped on the bench seat. With his elbow resting on the back of it, he looks like he has no care in the world. “Took a quick trip, I see?”
My blood runs cold, his unspoken connotation slithering through me, invoking dread and fear.
Through the rearview mirror, I lock eyes with Ross and I can see the apology shining through them. I hope he can see the fury in mine.
“What are you doing here, August?”
He picks up a lock of my hair between his fingers, stroking the ends with his thumb. “Picking my future missus up from the airport, of course. When you didn’t come home last night, I figured you and that maid of yours had an impromptu sleepover, but when I came to the penthouse this morning, you were nowhere to be found. What perfect timing I found your driver about to leave to pick you up. He refused to tell me where he was heading, but seeing as though I was already in the car, it was only a matter of time before I figured it out.”
My gaze cuts to Ross again, but he neither confirms nor denies what August is saying.
“How’s he doing then?” August prods, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice.
Turning back to him, I play dumb. “How is who doing?”
Dropping my hair, his hand falls to his lap, fingers flexing.
I’ve made him mad. The anger inside him is boiling, the rage within reflecting in his mud-brown eyes.
He pulls out his phone and his thumb dances over the screen before he turns it in my direction, showing me a photo of a closed door with a single window and the number eight-forty-seven—Sly’s hospital room.
“One call, Vinnie. It would take just one phone call and your boyfriend won’t make it out of the hospital. I should have already made it since you’ve taken it upon yourself to play me like a fool. You’re lucky the press didn’t find out about your little trip. How did you figure out where he was, anyway?”
“Don’t you dare,” I seethe through clenched teeth. “I came back, didn’t I? The only person who knew I was gone was Ross. No one else.”
His hand grips mine, pulling it from my lap and squeezing it so tightly I wonder if he’s trying to break bones. Dropping his voice to a low, deadly tone, he says, “Had anyone else found out, my dear fìancée, I would have killed him while you laid by his side in his hospital bed.”
He leans forward, his hand cupping around the side of my neck as he brings his lips to my ear so only I can hear his words. “Tell me, Vinnie. Did you fuck him like the slut I know you are? Did you suck his dick one last time? Because you’ll never see him again. I’ve kept him alive to keep you complacent, but I’m done appeasing you.”
Releasing me, he looks at me so darkly I fear he will act out even with Ross as an audience. But August is smart and conniving. He wouldn’t dare.
Rebuttals swirl through my mind, but I know anything I say will fuel his fire, so I force myself to keep quiet. Regret is at the forefront of my mind. I should have told Sly. I could have come clean to him about everything that’s happened with August and why, but I chose to keep my silence and now I may come to regret that.
I’ve never feared August like I fear him right now.
Several times, he’s lashed out at me physically, but I’ve never seen the hellish look in his eye like what’s shining through at this very moment.
And with our wedding in less than two weeks, I wonder if I’ve only just begun to see the real him.
Relaxing back into his seat, August rests his ankle on his knee and looks toward the front of the car. “Ross, take us back to our penthouse, please. My fiancée and I have a lot to catch up on.”
With my broken heart sinking to the depths of my stomach, I turn to look out my window, watching the familiar Manhattan streets pass by in a blur, and I know exactly why it no longer feels like home.
The elevator up to August’s penthouse is silent, but I can feel his eyes on me as I stare up at the floor indicator as the numbers ascend. My heart races, palms sweating from the anticipation of the unknown.
August has proven himself to be unpredictable with his outbursts. There’ve been times where I’d anger him and he wouldn’t lash out for hours, even days, only to come at me out of nowhere to punish me for things he thought I deserved retribution for. Other times, he sprung on me the second we were behind closed doors.
Today, it’s the moment the elevator dings.
“I should take you for a spin, too, Vinnie. Fuck you like the whore you are,” he spits, wrapping a tight fist in my hair. He uses it to pull me inside the penthouse, tugging me next to him roughly until we reach the middle of the entry space.
Jerking me forward, he releases me with a firm jolt, knocking me to the ground.
“No,” I cry out, the thought of August inside me roiling my stomach painfully, though I know his words are idle. He has yet to try to sleep with me, instead holding the threat over my head, using it alongside Sly’s life to keep me compliant.
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t stick my dick in you if you begged me to. Not after I know his was just there.”
He delivers his first kick to my ribs as I’m attempting to scramble to my feet.
The second kick comes when I’m down.
“You thought you could just fly to California and I wouldn’t find out?” He kicks me again, this time landing his foot in my gut.
“You are my fiancée, and in less than two weeks you will be my wife.”
My body contorts into the fetal position. I hug myself tightly as tears stream down my face. “August,” I whimper. “Please.”
“August, please,” he mocks, kicking me again. This time, a searing pain radiates as his loafer connects with my rib cage.
Crying out, my hand flies to where the pain ricochets from, and a fresh wave of tears fall. From my peripheral, I see August crouch down next to me. He reaches to brush the hair away from my face, and I flinch at his touch.
His knuckles drag down my cheek, and for a moment I think he’s going to hit me in the face, despite knowing he wouldn’t leave visible marks. My eyes clench closed, and for several long seconds his knuckles hover just above my cheekbone.
Scoffing, he stands.
As he walks away, he raises his voice, laughing maniacally as his voice echoes off the white walls. “Betray me again, Vinnie. See what happens.”
Then he walks away, leaving me crying in a crumpled, broken ball on the floor.