46. Juliet
JULIET
I t takes far longer than I would have hoped for Bea to return. At the fifteen-minute mark, I hear Murphy on the other side of the door.
“Miss Donovan, are you almost finished?”
“I’ll be right out,” I lie, my eyes flashing from the door to the mirror. “I have to redo my makeup!”
He seems to accept my explanation as he doesn’t knock again. I pace back and forth, my gaze moving all over. From the well-lit vanity for a woman to do her makeup to the cushions and plush chairs that don’t look even remotely well used to the floor to the ceiling windows.
Outside, the night sky is dark above the lights of the city. Once, I used to think coming to places like this was all I could look forward to. The pills that kept my nightmares at bay weren’t the only thing I used to dull my ugly memories.
Thirty minutes after Bea left, I hear the soft swish of the mirror and turn and release a low breath. Almost a sob, but not quite. I swallow that part back and straighten my spine as Paris flashes me one of his million-dollar megawatt smiles.
“Hey, girl,” he greets. “It’s been a while. Nice hair.”
Dressed in a pair of black jeans and a plain black t-shirt that reveals the long stretches of black ink that decorate both of his arms, Paris Troyan is a beautiful man. A damaged man. And the only one who knows my secret shame because I know his.
The second he opens his arms, I sprint into them. He squeezes me tight. “Heard about what happened to your dad,” he murmurs against the top of my head. “What happened to you? You just dropped off the map.”
Of course he would’ve looked for me, wondered. I thought I hadn’t had any true friends in my old world, but Paris isn’t anything like the people I knew at Silverwood Prep. For one, he’s never been connected to the town.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I confess, pulling away. “I need your help.”
Paris arches a pierced brow. The dual rings through it are in a different placement than I remember, but that’s not unusual for him.
Some people hide from their demons unless they’re too drunk to forget that’s what they’re doing, and some people choose to throw piercing parties and let girls and guys do all manner of fucked-up shit to them in an effort to feel something. I’m the first and Paris is the second.
“Bea told me,” Paris says, hand still cupping my elbow as if he’s not sure if he should let go. “What’s going on?”
“Do you remember what I told you the last time we saw each other?” I ask.
Paris’ expression darkens and his eyes flash up to the door. “Is the fucker here?” he demands. He moves forward as if he has every intention of marching through to find Morpheus Calloway and kill him.
I push a hand against his wide chest. “No.” I shake my head.
“No, he’s not here, but it’s… it’s complicated.
” My hands start to tremble and I ball them into fists to stop the betraying sign of my own nervousness.
I can feel the seconds of the clock ticking away every moment of my stolen freedom.
“There’s so much I want to tell you, but I don’t have the time. ”
Paris lowers his gaze to mine. Crystal blue eyes like the purest sapphire bore into me. “Juliet.” His hands cup my shoulders. “You saved my life the last time we met. Whatever you need, I’ll provide it. Just tell me.”
“I need a way to see some people,” I tell him. “I can’t communicate with people outside of my uncle’s sphere right now and I need help.”
His answer is immediate. “Easy. Done.” He looks back the way he came and it’s only then I notice Bea has returned with him and stands just inside of the mirror. Though neither of them says a word, she nods as if he’s given her an order and disappears back through the mirror.
When he turns back to me, his hands ease their grip and slide down my biceps. “What did you have in mind?” he asks. “A gathering of some sort?”
“Maybe?” My panicked brain is so full of relief just to see a familiar, safe face that I can’t think clearly. Time isn’t on my side, though. I glance towards the door. “But I can’t stay here for much longer to help you come up with an idea,” I tell him. “My guard already?—”
Paris dips his chin. “Don’t worry about that. Bea can distract him if needed. She’s not just a pretty face, you know.” His smirk is all rogue and charming bad boy. “She’s wickedly smart—probably smarter than me.”
He almost reminds me of… Nolan. I inhale sharply as a desperate pain stabs through me. “There’s something else.” Something I probably shouldn’t ask for, but I know I’m going to.
“I already told you I’d do whatever you ask, Jules.”
“This isn’t just a favor for me,” I warn him.
“Oh, did you make better friends?”
Pulling myself away from his hands, I smack his rock-hard chest. “ Asshole .” The insult is light and far from mocking.
“The best one of all,” Paris says. His smile only widens and he spreads his arms wide, the fabric of his shirt tightening over his bulging biceps. Far too much like Nolan.
“Morpheus is threatening some friends of mine,” I tell him. “I… can’t leave until I know they’re okay and there are… other things. You know my dad was arrested for embezzlement, right?”
He nods and I contemplate how much I should reveal, but as the invisible and silent sound of the clock of freedom constantly echoes in the back of my head, I don’t have long to decide.
“There’s been someone looking into the case and they think that he’s being framed. All of the evidence is too clean. They say it’s like he wanted to be caught.”
“Odd, but not impossible,” Paris points out.
“You’re right,” I agree. “But my mom is missing now.”
“Missing?” Paris’ brow furrows. “Is she not still in Silverwood?”
“No, she left months ago. I’m supposed to graduate soon, so I moved to a public school. I got an apartment.”
“On your own?” Paris chuckles. “Damn, Jules. You’re hardcore. No money. No family, and still worked it out? You’re worth, like, ten heiresses.”
“I’m not an heiress anymore,” I remind him. “But that’s not why I mention it.” Taking a breath, I tell him the rest. Paris’ expression falls when I explain the attack and the apartment fire. The kidnapping. The guys. I tell him everything, leaving nothing out.
By the time I’m done, his jaw is flexing with a muscle pulsing in time with the beat of my own heart. “This has all happened in… what? Six months?” He scowls. “You definitely have someone after you. One or two of those events could’ve been coincidental, but all of it? No. Something’s not right.”
“I’m pretty sure Morpheus is behind most of it,” I say, and then explain the worries over guardianship and the report from my school counselor.
Worrying one of the piercings in his lower lip, Paris crosses his arms over his chest and appears contemplative. “You’re still planning to go to Eastpoint, right?” he asks.
“I’m not sure, but the guys and I… we want to.”
Paris sighs. “If you’d come to Hazelwood, I could help you more, but if you’re set on Eastpoint, then I can reach out to some contacts there.”
“Actually, I already have one, I think,” I say. “Do you know a man named Mitchell Vikson?”
Paris’ jaw drops. “Viks? How the fuck do you know that guy?”
“You know him then?” I repeat. “He’s apparently Lex’s uncle, or so he’s said.”
Paris smacks his forehead and shoves a hand through his hair as he gazes up at the ceiling. “Small fucking world,” he mutters, almost to himself.
“He’s legit then?”
“Yeah, he’s legit,” Paris answers, looking back to me.
“I don’t know him personally, but I know of him.
He runs with the Eastpoint Heirs. Works for them, but if he thinks he’s your boyfriend’s uncle, he’d have no reason to lie.
From what I know, Viks isn’t the kind of guy that goes out his way to claim family.
He’s made his own.” Paris’ blue eyes peer at me a bit more. “Seems like you’ve done the same.”
I shrug. “I don’t know, but I want to protect them.” My eyes lower to the floor. “I’m fucking tired of feeling like a burden and every time I feel like I crawl out of this shit, I turn around and find myself back in the mud.”
A moment of silence passes and then Paris sighs. His hand lands on my shoulder and he drags me in for another hug. The scent of his spicy cologne fills my nostrils and I inhale deeply, letting my arms come up again to hug him back.
“It’s going to be okay,” he assures me. “If you need a way to see these men of yours, I can help. There’s always some charity gala or ball for this or that around.
Give me a few days to touch base with some of the local crowd and see if there’s anything already on the horizon.
I’m sure if I sponsor something, I can send out a few invites of my own.
” He dips his head and grins at me. “All you need to do is give me a list of names, and I’ll make sure they’re on the list and they know you’ll be there. ”
Voice tight, I blink back the burn in my eyes. “Thank you.”
“You’d do the same for me,” Paris says. “If you can get back here, though, that’d be easier.”
I think of Roquel and how Morpheus had seemed more than willing to let me go places with her. So long as I go back tonight and the guys he sent after me don’t report anything unusual, then I should be able to come back.
“I’ll make it happen,” I tell him. Even if I have to cave to Morpheus’ demands. Whatever it takes.
Cool, intelligent eyes fall upon my face. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret later, Jules,” Paris warns me. He turns his cheek and looks towards the windows. “You might be sure now that it’s something you can live with, but… you might find, it’s harder than you thought it would be.”