Chapter 39
Chapter
Thirty-Nine
ROSE
Pushing through the throngs of people, I climbed the stairs toward the second floor. The masquerade-themed party was in full swing. It was meant to celebrate my and Amelie’s graduation, but that was the last thing I felt like doing.
Damon had reached out to me a few days ago, dropping hints about an invitation to this party. I was surprised he showed, more so because he brought the bane of my existence with him.
I had been avoiding Professor Maxwell like the plague and stopped going to class completely.
When the grades were posted, I stared at my screen in disbelief.
Instead of failing me, I received an A from the man who is legendary for never awarding them.
Perhaps it was the price for my silence about what had happened in that abandoned warehouse.
A shudder crawled up my spine, and I quickly shut down the unwanted images.
No. I couldn’t go there again. It would wreck me.
I had successfully dodged Professor Maxwell for days.
Despite his attempts to stalk me, reach me, threaten me, coerce me, I had stayed hidden.
The few quiet days had given me a sliver of peace.
Meanwhile, he had become relentless in his pursuit, getting angrier with each rejection, and now he was here to torment me.
But I was determined to ignore him tonight. I was a woman on a mission. Three tequila shots buzzed through my veins. The liquid courage was just what I needed to confront Damon.
Why had he saved me from the brink of death, only to never spare me a second glance?
A part of me already suspected the truth.
My life-changing moment was a dime a dozen to him.
He was a philanthropist who had probably saved hundreds of suicidal teens and didn’t remember it was me on that rooftop.
And that’s okay. Romance wasn’t even on my radar anymore.
After everything that had gone down with his brother, I felt too used and spoiled for anyone else.
At least there was one upside, Professor Maxwell had cured my lifelong affliction.
I just needed an answer to the question that had haunted me for years and put my burning curiosity to rest.
But first, I needed to find Poppy. Her parents were out of town and had graciously opened their home to host this party.
My aunt had only one condition: Poppy must come out of her solitude for at least thirty minutes to enjoy the company of people her age.
My antisocial cousin was yet to make an appearance.
I reached the second floor of Poppy’s castle-like home.
Poppy occupied the entire floor and her gothic taste was reflected in every nook and cranny.
Only my aunt and I were allowed access to this level, aside from her trusted housekeeper.
The mezzanine balcony overlooked the party downstairs.
I ignored the raging music and charged toward her room.
Perhaps I could bribe Poppy into coming out of her fortress of solitude.
I rehearsed the pep talk I’d been ordered to deliver when I stopped dead in my tracks.
Standing in the hallway, right by the wall next to Poppy’s bedroom door, was Professor Maxwell. He leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, one ankle cocked over the other, as if he’d been waiting for me specifically. The shadow he cast seemed darker than the gloomy ambience in the hallway.
I considered retracing my steps, but his eyes had already zeroed in on me.
As always, there was a flicker of recognition in his gaze that made me realize he could see straight through me.
Neither of us spoke. The thrum of the party below sounded a million miles away.
I became acutely aware of the way my hands trembled and the sweat gathering beneath my dress.
Then my eyes landed on Poppy’s door. A small mercy. What Professor Maxwell could do to me paled next to what would happen if my she-devil cousin found him lurking here. I just needed to make a break for her room.
He uncrossed his arms and inclined his head toward her room. “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” he warned, realizing my intention.
The door to her room was slightly ajar, though I couldn’t see inside. The lights were turned off.
“It sounds like your cousin has company.”
Was it Poppy’s annual fuckfest already? She didn’t like distractions during the school year and only allowed herself physical contact one day a year.
I hesitated, expecting him to do something nefarious.
He didn’t move a muscle, just tracked me with those bored eyes as I inched backward.
My shoulder blades prickled until I moved out of the periphery of his attention.
Only when the distance between us felt safe did my lungs remember how to work again.
I pivoted on my heel, but his detached voice froze me mid-step. “Rose.”
Every instinct screamed for me to keep walking, but with several feet between us, I felt safe enough to engage. Perhaps a part of me was itching for a fight. Spit in his face, kick him in the shin, or just scream at him until my lungs burned.
I spun in place. “What now? Discovered more of my family members sleeping with each other? Let me guess. You plan to blackmail me to make me sleep with you.” It was a strong reaction to him calling out my name. ButI had been angry for days, and there hadn’t been an outlet.
He smirked. “Tempting. Now I wish I had dug something up to blackmail you with.”
“What do you want?” I spat.
“I missed you.”
I blinked, caught off guard. The unguarded admission hit me like a slap.
For the first time tonight, I took him in. Dark shadows hung beneath his eyes like he hadn’t slept in days. His immaculate hair was disheveled. The polished veneer was starkly missing.
If I didn’t know any better, I would think that I had taken a part of him away by making myself inaccessible. Something twisted in my chest at his vulnerability.
I furiously stomped over my weak emotions.
The warehouse. The hardwood floor against my back.
My throat raw from pleading with him. I forced myself to remember those brutal images.
He said he didn’t give a shit about what I wanted and proved it with his actions.
He was the master of manipulation, and I was falling for it again.
I wanted him to be equally angry, so I didn’t have to be considerate of the small ounce of real feelings he had expressed. “I don’t have time for this.”
I was about to turn away, but an unfamiliar crack in his generally icy tone stopped me. “You forgot everything that happened back then.”
“What?”
His eyes dropped to my abdomen, and I realized he was referring to my scars.
“Is this a fetish thing?” I asked, heat rising in my cheeks. “Why are you so obsessed with my scars?”
“They brought you back to me.” There was no mask, sarcasm, or even a hint of arrogance in his claim.
I stared at him, trying to read the lines around his mouth and the despondency in his eyes. What was with him tonight?
“Do you really not remember anything that happened back then?” he asked, his voice miles from the glacial detachment I’d come to expect.
“What are youtalking about?” Did he miss me so much that he had gone into a stupor of confusion?
“That day, you didn’t tell me your name. But I knew it was you the moment I saw your scars.” He stared at my belly. “Why can’t you remember me, Little One?”
His words collided with my memory and bounced off. My knees nearly buckled at the force of it, and I clung to the balcony railing to steady myself. Cold clarity flooded my veins as pieces locked into place with terrible precision.
The realization hit me with the force of a thousand gunshots—it was never Damon on that rooftop. It was Caden.
M y arms pumped, my legs cramped, but I didn’t let it slow me down as I climbed the stairs. Just one more flight of stairs. I was in immense pain and knew what I had to do the moment I threw the door open to the rooftop.
My hoodie rattled in the crosscurrent of the unforgiving wind, ballooning out from my body.
Without thinking, I pressed my palms to the freezing metal rail and climbed over.
My feet found the concrete lip at the edge as I leaned over to stare at the river underneath.
The drop was terrifying. But what was worse was the pain shooting up from my belly.
My fingers instinctively tightened around the railing as I hovered at the edge. Fat tears dropped onto my cheeks. I didn’t want to do this, but at least the pain would be over the moment I jumped.
A sound behind me broke my tunnel vision. I tensed, ready for a nurse’s shout or the heavy footfall of a security guard. But the voice that came was flat, amused, and utterly unimpressed.
“Are you going to do it?” the bored voice asked.
I glanced over my shoulder. Blue eyes, deeper than the river below, studied me curiously.
He was fourteen or fifteen, but you would think he was older by his towering height.
He was even taller than my father, with shoulders too broad for someone his age.
I had seen him around before. He was one of the older kids from our circle, though I had never spoken to him.
He had a cigarette in his hand. He took a drag, not at all in a hurry to talk me out of this or concerned about my fatality. I didn’t know how to react to his casual indifference.
When he stepped forward, I flinched. “Stay where you are, or I’ll do it.”
“No, you won’t.”
“What do you mean I won’t?”
Nodding at the water, he flicked his cigarette into it. I watched as it tumbled down, disappearing into the blue. I gulped. He had done it purposefully to show me what awaited me if I followed through. “You would have done it already if you were serious about it.”
This guy was seriously annoying. “That’s because you’re distracting me.”
He looked at the sky. “Are you still talking? Jump already. Just don’t half-ass it.”
“How can I half-ass a suicide?” I asked, irritated.