Chapter Seven
Moments later, Lana settles next to me with Grace and Taylor strolling into the library after us. Oh great, almost the entire gang. This torture will never end.
Taylor quips, “You look like shit. And you know I don’t bullshit anyone. Shit is shit. And that’s nothing to shit about.” She looks pleased with herself as she plops onto the carpet.
“How can you say that to your favorite brother? And all those ‘shits,’ not exactly prima ballerina material now, isn’t it?”
She gives me the middle finger. Charles chuckles and presses a kiss on his fiancée’s hair.
“But seriously,” Lana grabs my hand, “is there any truth to what they’re saying? I can deal with the press, the PR, but are you doing…drugs?”
The room falls silent. I even hear the faint barking of Silas, Maxwell and Belle’s one-eyed husky, running around the mansion somewhere.
The thudding of my heart intensifies.
Does Velowake count? No. Of course it doesn’t. It’s mainly made of caffeine. All legal substances. Borderline, maybe. Normally prescription required, which I definitely don’t have. But still…not hard drugs. Not the ones she’s referring to.
It’s a line I’ve drawn for myself. Partying, alcohol, caffeine pills, and even the occasional joint or two, but no hard drugs.
Deep down, I’m afraid if I ever touch those substances, I’d become addicted and couldn’t dig my way back out.
“Rex?”
I let out an incredulous scoff. “No, of course not. I was stupid, too excited about this cruise kicking off. Celebrated a little too hard, that’s all. Sorry for making your life difficult.”
Her eyes soften as she scans my face for tells. “Well, you’ve always made my life hard, so what’s another day?”
“You little shit.” I grin. “You love me.”
“We won’t force you to tell us what’s wrong. But know you aren’t alone. You have an army behind you.” Maxwell clasps my shoulder. “But we think it’s time for you to see a professional. A therapist or a psychiatrist.”
“A shrink? No fucking way.” I recoil, thinking about doctor number five, world-renowned Dr. Finneas Cambridge.
Silver-haired, wait list a year long, wore bow ties like an Olympic sport.
Smelled like sardines and old newspapers.
After two sessions, he blamed everything on “mommy issues,” and my symptoms resulted from unresolved tension and abandonment fixation.
How I was a textbook case of the Oedipus complex. What bullshit.
There’s no way I’m seeing a shrink again.
Shaking my head, I say, “I just need to get away and clear my head. I’m sure being on the cruise will help—the ocean, the beaches, the exotic locations. I’ll be fine.”
And Elias’s mission—I’m sure he’ll tell me more eventually, but I assume this mystery woman is in a similar situation to Raya’s. Ava and Cora’s mom had been married to someone in The Association. She overheard something she wasn’t meant to, and she’d paid for it with her life.
Whoever this new woman is, it has to end differently this time.
Maxwell grimaces. “About that…”
“What?” I stiffen. Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare.
“I hate to do this to you, but you saw the passenger cancelations. The drug allegations are rattling the patrons. With the tabloids breathing down our necks, we think it’s best if you sit this one out.”
“But this is my project! I spent the last year crafting the itinerary, generating the campaigns, liaising with vendors, the travel teams, every fucking thing.”
I need to be on the cruise to save that woman.
I need it more than I need food to survive.
Desperation and resentment flood my veins. I stalk to the windows. “No fucking way. You guys aren’t pulling me off shit.”
I jam my hand into my pocket and grip the red marble to the point of pain. This is what I get for being a fuck up—my family not trusting me.
I need atonement. I need to fix myself.
“It’s the right choice, C. You work out whatever’s been bothering you and we can distance your bad press from the launch,” Ryland comments.
“You don’t even work at Fleur anymore. Stay out of it, B. Go grade some papers or something,” I grit out, pointedly reminding Ryland he vacated his COO role a few years ago to Steven when he pursued being a professor full time.
Our parents alphabetized our middle names by age. Maxwell’s middle name is Angus, Ryland with Benedict, mine as Cassius, all the way down the alphabet to Taylor’s middle name as Gianna. We use them as nicknames, and right now, as insults.
Maxwell glowers at me. “Well, I work at Fleur and I’m pulling the boss card. You have a right to keep your shit to yourself, but anything you do can and will reflect upon us. And if you won’t find a therapist, we’ll find one for you—”
“You’re pulling some creative Miranda Rights now? Think this is a joke?”
“No, I don’t think this is a joke. I want to kick your ass and knock some sense into you, but one of us has to be the adult here. Three billion dollars and hundreds of jobs are at stake. You’re out, Rex. That’s it. End of discussion. Unless…”
I whirl around, dread lining my gut.
I know that tone. The soft, raspy whisper laden with pretense. This was Maxwell’s game all along. Everything before this was a fucking setup.
“What the hell are you planning?”
Maxwell’s eyes shine with triumph. “If the cruise is that important to you, you can be on it under the condition you’ll see the on-board psychiatrist.”
“Come on, man. There’s no big downward spiral here. Just a little scenic detour with bottle service. Let’s not be dramatic. Save the drama for me, yeah?” I wiggle my eyebrows and force out a grin.
His face remains stony.
I sweep my gaze around the room, finding the same concerned expressions on everyone’s faces.
They aren’t laughing. They aren’t falling for my jokes.
Nausea churns inside me as I narrow my eyes at Maxwell and murmur, “That’s it? Go to a few sessions and you’ll be okay?”
He shrugs. “Yep. Four sessions. Easy as that.”
“Sur—” I can probably fool some balding old man who was arm-wrestled into babysitting a bunch of billionaires. I can feign contrition. People love me. I have everyone eating out of the palm of my hand.
But something in Maxwell’s arrogant smirk gets my hackles up.
“Hold on, who’s the doctor?”
Maxwell grins and clasps his hands over his lap. “Olivia. She’s good and won’t let you bullshit her.”
I freeze, my voice suddenly leaving me. The image of her standing in the crowd at Mystique barrels into my mind. The way she stared at me, how she peeled back my layers and tossed them aside—all without moving a muscle.
And when her gaze roved over my body—a more potent caress than the two women rubbing themselves all over me—my cock stirred for the very first time in months.
Her eyes flared and those soft lips parted, like she could sense my body chemistry changing. Like she could read my secrets.
It was unnerving. It scrambled my mind. I felt naked to my soul.
And so I did what I do best—hide.
When the girls kissed me, I kissed them back, but I might as well have been kissing a wall, because I didn’t feel a damn thing. The crowd roared because they expected the playboy act from me.
But the entire time, I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the temptation in white.
There were desire and disdain in her whiskey-colored eyes, a darkness in them calling to my own.
I couldn’t help but think… What if I was kissing her? How would those supple, unvarnished lips taste? Would her perfect face with her perfect mind making the perfect decisions—would that somehow rub off on me?
Would the psychiatrist heal the fuck up?
And this is why you stayed away all this time.
This is also why she couldn’t be my doctor. She laid me bare with a simple gaze.
The door abruptly opens and in toddles Levi in his denim overalls, with Belle hot on his heels.
“Dada!” The two-year-old doles out a toothy smile and waddles toward Maxwell. “Pway… Pway pwetend.”
The tension melts as my siblings laugh at the pair of chunky thighs bumbling across the Persian carpet. Levi trips and falls flat on his face, but instead of crying, he gets back up, giggles, and continues toward his dad.
Maxwell squats and opens his arms wide, his lips curving into a rare, bright smile that still shocks me whenever I see it. Growing up, he barely smiled and always walked around with the weight of the world on his shoulders. But since marrying Belle, he’s thawed and is so much happier.
“Sorry for interrupting.” Belle beams at us. “Levi’s into the whole I’m a triceratops phase and Maxwell’s been assigned as the T-Rex. Kids and their imaginations.”
A rock lodges in my throat at the image she painted. “It’s all good. We’re done anyway.”
I’m reminded of how Mom had comforted me when I was five, after Maxwell and Ryland had run off to the two-story treehouse in the backyard and refused to come down. Back then, they called me the scaredy cat—afraid of heights, loud noises, unfamiliar strangers, among other things.
I was too scared to climb up the tall ladder, and the twins said even if I could, they wouldn’t let me in because I wasn’t a twin. It didn’t matter I was only a year younger.
I was excluded.
Upset, I ran back inside the kitchen, my muddy shoes making a mess on the white-tiled floors. Mora, our chef, looked angry, probably because I left my toys in the kitchen again, but Mom, wearing her favorite penguin apron, shooed her away and squatted to my level, a wooden spatula in her hand.
“Rex, do you know cooking is like pretending? You use your imagination. You see, when I make this Ragu Toscano, I think about the love I put in it. They’re little fairies dancing on the tomatoes, sprinkling magical dust into the pot. I imagine how when you eat it, you’ll feel all of my love.”
“Pretend? Like making up stories?”
She nodded. “Exactly. When I’m sad, angry, or scared, I play pretend. I create stories when I cook. Or I’d imagine my stuffed bunny, Alice, was alive. She’d cook with me and I wouldn’t be afraid anymore.”
I clutched my new T-Rex stuffed animal in my hands and stared up at her. Her brown hair was twisted in the back, the ceiling lights creating a halo behind her. She looked like an angel. I wondered how anyone could be so beautiful.
Wiping my tears on my sleeve, I looked down at my T-Rex. He was brave. He wasn’t afraid of climbing trees and wasn’t sad about his brothers not wanting to play with him. He ruled the world and everyone was afraid of him.
“Why are Maxwell and Ryland so brave? Why am I scared of everything?”
Mom laughed. “Silly. They used to be scared too, but sometimes, you have to face your fears in order to get over them. And in the meantime, I’m here and so is your friend.”
She motioned to my T-Rex, and I hugged him, gave him a name.
Mom had smiled then. “Go on. Pick up your toys on the table and put them away. We always clean up after ourselves. I’ll grab us some chocolate chip cookies and we can have a Mommy and Rex adventure, okay?”
Levi fake roars, drawing my attention back to the present.
Moments like this, having HSAM is bittersweet.
I get to relive all the beautiful moments—every precious nugget embedded deep in my psyche.
I remember the softness of her voice, how she smelled of freshly baked apple pies that day, the warmth of her body.
Not a day goes by that I don’t miss Mom, and in some ways, it’s a relentless grief.
How can you truly let go of the past when you remember it all?
Levi giggles. He’s the cutest triceratops in the world. Maxwell and Belle blow raspberries on his cheeks.
My heart twists at the image of outpouring love from the trio. Then I glance around the room, finding the same sticky, sweet emotion everywhere.
Grace holding hands with Steven, who’s looking at her like she’s his sole reason for existence.
Ryland grinning—the bastard smiles more now that he has Millie, his fiancée who used to be his student.
Even our resident goth, Taylor, has hearts in her eyes, her face flushing when Charles whispers something in her ear.
Lana laughs at Levi’s happy shrieking because Maxwell is tickling him.
They don’t need you to make them happy anymore.
That’s been my role since Mom died. Give them joy because I took it away. But I think back to my earlier jokes—how they don’t land anymore. How I can’t make my family laugh anymore.
They don’t need me now.
The hole widens inside my heart.
“You little monster. Daddy wasn’t done with his meeting yet. Your uncle is being naughty.” Maxwell buries his face in Levi’s round tummy, eliciting more screeching and giggles.
“Uncle Rex is never naughty, only fun.” I strain a lazy grin and walk to my nephew, who’s trying to wiggle out of Maxwell’s clasp, his grubby little hands reaching for me.
“Wax. Uncle Wax.”
“Rex. Like the dinosaur…roar!” I grab him, hoist him under my arm like a football, and make a break for it.
Levi squeals, his joy piercing the heaviness in my chest.
“Uncle Wax is on timeout today. Your daddy says I’m in trouble. Why don’t we break out of jail, find Silas, and play catch with him?”
“Pway! Doggie!”
“Do you know Uncle Wax used to have a T-Rex stuffy as a friend? His name was Kazoo. I think I know just what to get you for Christmas.”
“T-Wax! Ka-Ka S-See,” he repeats himself, the cute little pumpkin trying to mimic me.
In another life, I’d love to have a mini-me. I’d be a fun dad. My heart twinges. Too bad I’m stuck in the current one.
“Rex! What’s your choice?” Maxwell hollers after me. “And don’t say I didn’t warn you; Greg Masters and the press will be on the cruise. We need good PR.”
There’s definitely no way I’m off the cruise. It’s the only thing keeping me sane now. The only thing resembling meaning in my life.
It’s my last lifeline as I hang over a cliff, my palms sweaty, my arms fatigued.
Images of Mom and Raya’s stiff bodies slam into my vision.
It’s atonement.
My palms sweat when I think about not being on the cruise. Not getting a chance to save someone. Or save myself.
There is no other choice. It’s a desperate need. I’d do anything to be on board.
“Fine. I’ll see Olivia on the cruise. But no meds. That’s my condition.”
I’m already hopped up on Velowake. I don’t want more meds in my system. I don’t trust myself enough to take them without abusing them.
But Olivia? I’ll charm her and get her to give me a clean bill of health. I don’t have to tell her anything.
It’ll be fine.
But I have a feeling I’ve signed up for much more than I bargained for.