Chapter 6
Forgive Us All, Women, Alex.
Jade
Wow, I was clearly thriving in life. Abusive boyfriend, controlling dad who tightened the screws on my every move like never before, a job I truly hated right out of university, being kidnapped, and now, bleeding through white pajamas in front of my kidnapper.
Alex didn’t hear me the first time, so he leaned in, confusion written all over his face, but all I could do was whisper, hoping to just die from embarrassment, that would've been easier.
"White pajamas and the first day of a period...aren't…aren’t really a good mix," I divulged involuntarily and squeezed my sunglasses, my face burning like someone slowly set me on fire. "Can...can you get me a sweater? Please? From the stuff that's in the car?"
Without asking anything, the caveman obeyed and came back with a sweater. I snatched it out of his hands, quickly wrapping it around my waist.
"Oh." He must've finally clued in to what happened. "Oh!" Yep, there it was. "Shit.”
Beads of sweat collected on my forehead and all I wanted was to disappear.
“Damn,” he said, unsure like never before. “A-are you okay? Are you feeling okay? Do you need like…a doctor or something?” Alex rattled off questions, the urgency in his eyes throwing me off. What just happened to him? The kidnapper turned into a gentleman for three seconds.
“I’m okay." I nodded, amused at his concern.
“Are you sure? Do you need—want anything?” He paused, choosing his next words. “Treats? Chocolate? Did you need to get anything else?”
I stared back at him, overwhelmed that he would ask that. How did my kidnapper know so much about period cravings?
"N-no,” I stuttered, wildly wondering if he meant it—was he going to get me…treats? “I'm fine, I just...I just need to take a shower. And maybe lie down."
That was the only thing I wanted. I wanted to climb into bed, fall asleep, and not wake up for the foreseeable future. The food warmed me up from the inside and made me realize how tired I was. Exhausted. Drained.
Just…done.
I wanted to lock myself up in that beach house as if it were some fortress that would protect me from Xavier and from my father.
From going back home.
Alex drove me back in silence, but something changed between us—like we weren’t on bad terms anymore, which was crazy considering how we’d met. But that’s what a period that arrives at the worst possible time will do to you.
I followed him into the house, where he dropped off the bags of stuff I bought, and right before he turned to leave, he delivered a line that floored me. "Don't worry about Xavier, okay? While you're here, there's no way he'll ever get to you. Truly. This place is very safe.”
We stood in front of each other in the same place where I told him to shoot me, and it was like the twilight zone. I knew his name, he knew my past, we were both different after that lunch.
I nodded, stopping myself from thanking him, because what was I going to thank him for?
Thank you, Alex, for kidnapping me and locking me in a house where my ex-boyfriend can’t find me.
Thank you for taking my phone away so I can finally get some peace from the never-ending phone calls and threatening texts.
“The camera’s back up.” He pointed behind me, never looking that way. “Don’t break it again.” His tone changed, like he wasn’t only commanding me. This time, it sounded like he asked.
I nodded again, wondering what the footage of me launching that pasta spoon looked like. “Okay.” I giggled uncomfortably. “There’s no camera in the bedroom, right?” I looked up into his eyes, unsure of why I’d asked that. I checked the bedroom last night.
He smiled, and it was so…boyish. Fuck me, I didn’t hate it. What, one lunch and his undivided attention for an hour was enough for me to stop hating him? Enough for me to forget what he’d done—what he was still doing?
“No cameras in the bedroom. This is a safe place,” Alex spoke slowly, giving me a chance to listen to his voice. We stood there for a few seconds longer, a little awkward and a little unsure. “Okay,” he added, taking slow steps toward the door.
But then he turned back. Turned back to me and stepped closer, evidently wanting to say something else. And I wanted him to say it too. Whatever it was, I wanted to hear it.
Instead, he nodded curtly and whirled back around, quickly walking out the front door. The beautiful dark-haired devil disappeared, leaving me all alone.
In a foreign house, with no place to go and nothing to do.
But safe.
Days passed in deep silence. No voices, no music, I didn't turn the TV on. I didn't speak, I didn’t sing, I didn’t hum. I made no sounds.
I slept to my heart’s content. I finally had no deadlines and no alarm clock. No rules to adhere to.
For the first time in my life.
I sat on the beach in the morning, afternoon, evening, and sometimes in the middle of the night too. I swam for as long as I wanted. I ate the food that I wanted. Or didn’t eat at all. I dressed the way I wanted. I did and I was what I wanted.
I’d never lived this…free.
Security patrolled the small property, always there, always visible out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t mind. The guys resembled MMA fighters, but they didn’t even look my way. Their objective was to protect me.
The thought ran through me at the speed of light—for the first time in my life, someone was protecting me. Like I was a princess in a castle.
I moved through the days, catching myself wanting Alex to come back and visit. As much as admitting it made me question my own sanity, there was no way to deny I liked spending the day with him. I wanted more time. More time to just be in his presence.
But I also thought about someone else.
My father.
Day and night, the puzzle was rearranging itself in my head. I didn’t care how he felt now that I was missing. Was he sad? Angry? Vengeful?
Hopefully, all those things. Hopefully, he suffered.
Because Sebastian Moretti was a follower of rules and principles, one that he was determined to impose on others.
The first principle was: it’s either his way or no other way. He believed he was always correct and his opinion was the only one that mattered. He bulldozed through everyone's feelings—
No. He didn’t see or acknowledge that other people had feelings. Real feelings weren't for him, anyway.
He’d split feelings into two categories: masculine and feminine. Calm, centered, confident, brave, strong, determined, engaged, and stimulated; those were all masculine in his eyes. Weak, docile, pleasing, happy, impatient, worried, scared, overwhelmed, and vulnerable; those were all feminine.
He would pass those teachings onto me when I was growing up—engaging me in long conversations and lectures about what it meant to be a man and a woman. And I ate all that shit up. I believed in it all until my first year of university.
I entered undergrad and almost had a mental breakdown. Had I been misled my whole life? Tricked? Kept in a dark dungeon of my father’s twisted and unreliable rules? Why were all my classmates so…free? Free to choose, free to be.
That’s when I was able to name it. Rage. Not anger, not frustration—rage. I turned from a docile and scared little girl to a furious and deeply unsatisfied woman.
But it’s incredibly hard to break free from old and familiar ties. There was no way to escape, no way to disentangle and leave, because above all else, I was Sebastian Moretti’s daughter. His only daughter, his only family.
Resentment brewed inside me, growing stronger with every year. No mother to turn to—we lost her to cancer when I was only four—it was always just me and him. And he was always too overprotective. Strict to a fault. Controlling all my actions, words, and thoughts.
So there I was—top law school graduate with a summa cum laude diploma hanging above my desk, better suited to be in the trash can instead.
Because that achievement wasn’t mine—it was his.
There was a pipeline—law school to assistant United States attorney working for Sebastian Moretti—that was non-negotiable.
My father thrived in his job. It gave him life, put an extra pep in his step, and offered the feeling of self-worth that we all chase, but it drained me.
I was a zombie, merely existing within a set of strict rules.
Every morning, I swallowed tears as I stepped inside the building extra early, just like him.
I was twenty-six, and dead inside. My job sucked the life out of me.
My father hovered over me as if I were an inmate serving a life sentence.
My apartment? Picked by him, in the neighborhood he deemed safe and acceptable.
Getting to work? He would pick me up. Groceries, gym, going out to eat? With him.
Until he found someone suitable to pass me off to, and I was too blind to see it. As soon as Xavier and I began dating, it was like he loosened the reins, but just slightly, to make sure I didn’t notice.
Xavier was everything a partner should be, according to my father. He was strong, rich, a provider, and he showered me with attention.
And when it all began to go downhill with Xavier, my father refused to see the signs. Refused to accept my words or listen to my fears.
He’d tell me I was overreacting and a man like Xavier would—of course—be protective of a gem like me.
That's what made him a man! A man must be the head, must be the one making the decisions about his woman.
How I dressed, where I went, and who my friends were.
A woman isn't capable of thinking for herself. How can you not realize that, Jade?!
And I stayed. Thinking that maybe…maybe I was just overreacting. Maybe…maybe I just wasn’t experienced enough? Maybe this is what love was like?
It started off slow—Xavier just eased me into it.
I just want what’s best for you. Don’t overreact.
He’d shout every once in a while. He’d tell me that I could never do anything right. Where’s your head, Jade, hm?